


The Silence Between

by thx4thevenombby



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Musicians, Blow Jobs, Dark Past, Friends to Lovers, Hinakoma - Freeform, Komahina - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, TW: Suicide Mention, coworkers with benefits, handjobs, pianist! Komaeda, tw: major character injury, violinist! Hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-06-19 06:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 101,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15504546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thx4thevenombby/pseuds/thx4thevenombby
Summary: After Hajime Hinata's music career is almost ended by controversy, his director assigns him a new pianist. Nagito Komaeda may be a talented musician, but his dark past and odd personality seem to be fueling a strange fascination with Hajime, himself. As competition looms over their heads, Hajime's beginning to wonder if he can keep up with his own secrets, much less Nagito's.





	1. Honesty is a Virtue

Hajime Hinata couldn’t remember a time in his life when there hadn’t been instruments around. His mother, a music teacher, has insisted on him growing up “learning the wonders of music.” At age twelve, he promised his father he would take over the family business and  _ not _ become a musician. At age eighteen, he broke that promise. But he really didn’t think he’d ever had a choice. Music was like his blood. It ran through him, keeping him alive with every beat of his heart and the drums. 

It had always been Hajime and his violin against the world. Most of his high school days were spent practicing alone in school practice rooms, or constantly badgering his teachers for help with specific parts. By college, nothing had changed. When he graduated, he’d almost immediately been accepted into an elite touring orchestra. 

A year later, he got another call. “Hajime I need you to meet with me ASAP, I’ve got great news.”

Hajime dragged himself from bed, got dressed and headed to his orchestra director’s office. He opened the door, and took a step back. Someone else was in there. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, Hajime stay.” His director gestured to a chair next to the other man. Hajime took it. “I want you to meet Nagito Komaeda.”

“Nice to meet you, Hajime.” Nagito held out a pale hand. Hajime looked him up and down as he took it. He had wild white hair piled on top of his head like a bird’s nest and green eyes so pale they almost looked gray. 

“Nagito is a pianist. He studied under the same teacher as Chiaki. He’s-”

“I don’t need another accompanist. I’ll play the competition piece on my own.” Hajime cut in, frustration seeping through to his voice.

“No, you will not. I’m not asking you this, Hajime.” His director sat up straighter, looking down at Hajime. “I think you should hear him play before you turn him down, either way.” His director stood up and opened the door for them. Hajime sighed and stood up, walking briskly to the closest practice room that he knew had a piano in it. Nagito managed to catch up with his pace and walked with him. Hajime frowned. 

“I’m sorry that he set you up to this, but-”

“I volunteered.”

“What?”

“I requested to be your accompanist, Hajime.” Nagito’s eyes were large and they seemed to grow even more so when he spoke. “I’m what some might call a ‘fan’ of yours.”

“Oh. Really.” Hajime wasn’t sure how to respond. He opened the door for Nagito, who sat down primly at the piano bench. A few seconds later, Hajime’s director passed through the door and nodded to Nagito to play. Nagito glanced back nervously at Hajime once before his fingers connected with the keys and suddenly Hajime was dumbstruck. Nagito Komaeda was a phenomenal pianist.  _ He’s not as good as Chiaki, but he’s definitely talented. I’m impressed, but that doesn’t change things. We’ll work together for the competition and then I’ll convince my director to drop it.  _ His director gave him a stern look and then excused himself. Nagito heard the door close and stopped playing, turning around to face Hajime. “I practice in this room every morning at six am. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He didn’t indicate that he’d found Nagito’s playing terrific, but the white haired man smiled brightly anyway. 

“I’ll wait with anticipation, Hajime.” His voice dipped at Hajime’s name. Hajime left the practice room, hearing the piano music pick up again as he left. 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Hajime drowsily pulled the practice room door open and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, Nagito Komaeda was watching him with an interested expression. “You got here before me?” Hajime wondered aloud, checking his watch. 5:50 am. Nagito nodded.

“I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, so-”

“You got me coffee?” Hajime rubbed his eyes again. Was this a weird sleep-induced hallucination? Nagito’s outstretched hand was holding a cup of coffee. Hajime took it and sat down. “The piece we’re playing is-”

“Violin Concerto in A Minor by Vivaldi.” Nagito nodded excitedly. “I’ve already learned it ahead of time so I won’t hold you back. Of course, I may do that anyway, but i should at least put in effort to avoid it.” As Nagito spoke, he pulled music from a folder and placed it hurriedly on the piano. He sat up straighter and turned to Hajime, awaiting his signal. 

“Wait a moment, I don’t even have my violin out yet.” Hajime unzipped his case, sleep still slowing his hands and pulled his violin from its case. He tuned quickly and then counted off. He didn’t wait for a nod from Nagito before he began playing, but Nagito didn’t seem to need it. They played it once through.  _ Well, he’s good. No denying that, but there’s a lot of room for improvement. I don’t like being the teacher in these cases. I like being forced to learn, not slowing myself down for another player… Hm. Maybe that’s why the director always says I’m a bad team player.  _ Hajime frowned. “Let’s go back to measure thirty. You messed up there.”

“Apologies.” Nagito bowed his head and flipped back to measure thirty in his music. Truthfully, he’d only played a single note wrong in a measure that Hajime knew was particularly difficult for accompaniment, but Hajime wanted to push Nagito. Either he would be up to Hajime’s standards or he’d quit out of desperation. Hajime was alright with either of those solutions. 

They played well into the day, until Hajime was growing hungry and his fingers were starting to get too numb to really play with the finesse he’d usually prefer. “Let’s end for today. I’m going to get lunch, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hajime stood up, packed away his violin and left, only faintly hearing Nagito’s goodbye on his way out. As he walked to his car, he thought about what he would get for lunch.  _ Hm. Pizza sounds good. Or maybe tacos.  _ He was so engrossed in his thoughts about food that he didn’t even see the vibraphone a foot in front of him until he walked into it, yelping. “Oh, hey Hajime!” Souda waved happily from behind it. 

“Hi Souda.” He mumbled, rubbing his now sore knee and trying to stop himself from visibly wincing. 

“Poor girl’s got a problem with her pedal, so I’m gonna take her home and try to figure it out.” Souda patted the vibraphone affectionately, like it was a pet.

“Um. You do that. I’ve gotta go eat, I’m starving, so I’ll see you around-”

“Hey wait! Gundham told me you’ve got a replacement for Chiaki-”

“He’s  _ not _ a replacement for Chiaki. He’s just an accompanist for my next competition. How did Gundham even hear about it?” Hajime’s question went unanswered. Souda bounced a little in his spot. 

“Who is it?”

“Er, Nagito Komaeda. He’s not well known from what I know. Now, really Souda, I’m gonna go to lunch.” Hajime’s patience was wearing especially thin. Souda gasped, eyes wide and mouth open. 

“No way! Komaeda? You’re serious?” Souda laughed. Hajime raised an eyebrow.  _ What? Am I the only one who doesn’t know this guy? _ “Dude, he’s  _ weird _ . Like really, really weird. Nice enough, though. I’ve heard he’s pretty good.” Souda scratched the back of his neck. “Now that I think about it… I’m pretty sure him and I were both on rhythm section for a jazz thing a while back. He’s not real good with, um, y’know, like… talking to people.” Souda frowned absently, staring off into the distance. “Oh jeez, it’s probably your lunch time, isn’t it? I’ll get going.”  _ you just realized? After I’ve been saying that this whole time? _ Hajime sighed, waving a goodbye to Souda.  _ But what does he mean Nagito’s ‘weird?’ I mean, sure he seemed a little eccentric, but definitely not what Souda would constitute as weird. Souda’s usually pretty laid back.  _ Hajime thought as he walked to his car. When he reached the parking lot, he stopped in front of a green car parked diagonally from his. Nagito Komaeda was eating lunch alone in his car.  _ That’s sad.  _ Hajime fidgeted a little, a bad feeling washing over him.  _ Souda said he was weird, right? What if he’s, like, really lonely or something? _ Hajime had spent most of high school and college on his own and he knew what it felt like to be on your own too much. Against his better judgement, he took a deep breath and rapped on the car window. Nagito jumped.  _ That was weirdly adorable _ . Hajime thought before dispelling the thought quickly. 

“Hajime!” He smiled brightly. 

“Er, hi Nagito. Listen, I’m going to go get some lunch, if you want to tag along-”

“I’d love to Hajime, thank you!” Nagito got out of his car too fast, teetering a little before standing still. 

They drove to a nearby cafe and sat down. Hajime took a sip of water. “So, erm, how did you become a pianist?”

“My parents were gone a lot growing up. But I had piano lessons and a piano. There was nothing else to do so I practiced. How about you?”

“I… In all honesty, I just liked it a lot.” Hajime felt silly.  _ I invited this guy to lunch and now I don’t even know how to have a conversation with him.  _ There was silence for a little while, neither man feeling completely up to the task of starting a new topic. Fortunately, a waiter approached and took their orders. 

“I knew Chiaki, before she became your accompanist-”

“We’re not going to talk about Chiaki.” Hajime’s voice was firmer than he meant for it to be. Nagito didn’t seem to notice.

“I realize I’m not a replacement for her, Hajime.”

“I said we’re not going to talk about Chiaki.” He repeated, playing with the edge of the napkin to distract himself. Nagito just nodded and stared out the window. “Souda said he’s worked with you before.” Hajime tried again after a pause. Nagito’s eyes went slightly wider.

“Ah. Yes.” Nagito seemed to be fidgeting even more than usual. “He’s a very talented percussionist.” Nagito nodded. Hajime gave him a look but didn’t question his fidgeting. Their food came and Hajime thanked God for the distraction from talking. The silence while they ate was awkward and long but Hajime figured it beat the grudging conversation they’d had earlier. Nagito ate slowly and delicately. Hajime finished well before him, silently cursing at realizing he’d have to be the one to start talking again first. 

“So you play jazz, too?”

“I play a little bit of everything, but I was classically trained if you’re worried about that.” Nagito didn’t look up as he ate, just continued cutting his food into little pieces.  _ He thinks I’m trying to say he’s not as good of a musician. Jazz and folk players have messier styles. Not any worse, just different. But there’s a bit of a superiority complex about training amongst the musicians in our particular orchestra. Nearly all of us were classically trained besides Souda, and he’s a percussionist, so his background is less relevant in orchestra than it would be in a brass band, per say.  _

“I’m not worried about skill. You’re obviously a talented pianist. Accompanists are just a sore subject for me, is all.” Hajime took a quick sip of water, trying to hide his discomfort. Most people never made a point of noticing his grumpiness, they just looked past it or moved on to another violinist. It had never occurred to him that Nagito might assume the anger was in any way an insult to his ability. 

“Ah. I see. Your director warned me as much.” Nagito took a breath. “But as I said earlier, I would really do anything to play with you, Hajime. I’ve been following your work for a long time. Just to accompany you for a single competition would be a dream.” Nagito’s voice dipped and he looked up at the ceiling, seeming almost giddy. 

“Erm. Thanks.” Hajime wasn’t used to such outright praise. It was a little disconcerting to him. “I should get going.” He stood up, putting his cash into the bill clip. One of Nagito’s pale hands snaked out and circled his wrist. “Uh.” Hajime blinked down at it.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Erm, just a little sugar, why?”

“Have a nice day, Hajime. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nagito’s eyes were strangely bottomless. Hajime nodded politely and left. He got to his car and sat down, rubbing the wrist Nagito had grabbed. It didn’t hurt, if anything Nagito’s grip was strangely weak, but something about the sudden physical contact with Nagito left a feeling he couldn’t describe on his skin. 

 

* * *

 

 

Bright and early the next morning, Nagito was there in the practice room. This time, the coffee he brought Hajime had sugar in it. He smiled warmly at Hajime as he entered the room. They practiced for a few hours and when they were finished, Hajime decided against asking Nagito to lunch with him this time. Instead, he chatted for a little while Gundham, an eccentric cellist, before heading to his apartment. 

The next morning, the director pulled Nagito aside before they could begin. “Ah, Mr. Saihara I apologize for any terrible thing I may have done and completely understand if you wish to fire me.” His voice was cheery. The director frowned. 

“Um. I just needed you to fill out some forms, actually.”

“Lead the way!” Nagito waved a goodbye to Hajime.  _ At least now I can have some time alone.  _ Hajime thought to himself and began bowing through a part that had been giving him significant trouble earlier. Hajime had often been told to smile more as a child. But he’d been even more often told that he actually did smile when he played. Music made him feel at peace and eased away the frustrations he often felt with the world around him. 

An hour later, Nagito returned. His usual cheery aura was about him, but his eyes were tinged red. “Were you, um, were you smoking?” Hajime asked. Nagito shook his head vigorously. 

“Nothing of the sort! I have allergies.” He sat down at the piano bench. Hajime shrugged and began playing, Nagito quickly caught up and met his speed. Measure thirty passed and once again, Nagito played the same wrong note. Hajime stopped. “Apologies, Hajime.” Nagito sighed. Hajime knew he was being overly difficult, but if Nagito was truly serious about wanting to play with him, then he’d have to learn to deal with it. Or at least, that was how Hajime justified it to himself. They started playing once again, this time making it past measure thirty. Everything was going wonderfully until an off chord rang through the room. Nagito stared down at the piano. “I-I, ah, sorry.”

“It’s fine. Don’t mess it up this time.” Hajime picked back up. They played through the end, but something felt off to Hajime. “Check your dynamics there.” He pointed to a section on the last page of music. “It’s supposed to be mezzo forte, you just played it straight.” He remembered that section particularly well because he’d struggled with his own dynamics on it months ago and it had been Chiaki who pointed out to him that the accompaniment was supposed to overpower the melody for just a moment. 

“Oh.” Nagito blinked at the little “mf” inscribed on the page and Hajime caught the almost unnoticeable way his shoulders slumped. 

“You’re a little off today. Get some rest and we’ll meet again tomorrow.” Hajime stood up to pack away his violin and left. This time, he didn’t hear Nagito practicing as he left. In fact, the practice room was strangely quiet. 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, there were already two empty cups of coffee sitting on the table as Hajime entered the practice room. Nagito was fidgeting on the piano bench. He turned to face Hajime. “Ah, good morning Hajime! I hope you had a nice evening yesterday.” There were dark circles under his eyes. 

“Um. Are you okay?”

It was almost like a record scratched in Nagito’s brain. He froze, raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand to his mouth. Hajime took a step closer and it was like Nagito fell back into place. “Yes, completely fine! I won’t mess up today. I stayed up all night practicing so that I won’t disappoint you again.”

“You pulled an all-nighter? That’s not healthy, Nagito. If anything, it will make your playing worse.” Hajime sat down and began taking out his violin. Nagito tilted his head. 

“Music is more important, Hajime. I thought you of all people would understand that.” He took a breath and turned back to the piano, seeming almost disappointed though Hajime wasn’t sure why. True to his word, Nagito didn’t mess up once. He played the entire piece perfectly and then looked to Hajime. The grin on his face was just short of cocky. “See, Hajime? I practiced just for you.”

Hajime couldn’t stop the grin that settled on his face. “Alright, I’ll give you that one, but now you’ve got to keep it consistent. It could’ve been luck.”

“Hm. Luck.” Nagito enunciated the word, like he was thinking deeply about it. He glanced up and met Hajime’s eyes with a startling intensity. “Luck is a funny thing.”

Hajime leaned back in his seat. “How do you mean?”

“No, I shouldn’t ramble. Let’s practice.”

“Er, alright.” Hajime picked up his violin again and counted off. They practiced for a few hours and when they were done, Nagito left with a quick goodbye to Hajime.  _ He’s never left first before.  _ Hajime thought idly as he packed up to leave. On his way out, he ran into Souda. “Hi Souda.” He started to move past him. 

“Hey, Hajime wait!” Souda called. Hajime closed his eyes in a silent sigh and then turned around. 

“What’s up?”

“Do you mind helping me with something real fast? I promise it won’t take too long.” He gave Hajime a hopeful glance. Hajime took a deep breath and nodded once. “Sweet! You’re the best, Hajime. Alright, I just need someone to help me move the timpani into the other room. It takes forever when there’s only one person.” Souda ushered Hajime into the next room and showed him how to wheel the timpani drums without dragging their pedals on the floor. Thirty minutes and countless stubbed toes later, they were finished. “Thanks again Hajime, I’ll see you tonight!”

“Yep, you too.” Hajime started to walk away and then froze. “Wait. Tonight?” He turned back and raised an eyebrow at Souda, who nodded in confusion. 

“Oh sorry, I guess I just figured you’d be there ‘cause he’s your pianist now and everything.”  _ What does Nagito have to do with any of this? _

“First of all, he’s hardly  _ my _ pianist. Secondly, what are you talking about?”

“Nagito’s playing at the jazz club tonight. Gundham and I are going to watch. But if you’re busy, it’s all g. We’ll tell him you say hi.” Souda started to walk away again. 

“Uh, he didn’t tell me he was playing tonight.” Hajime shuffled his feet.  _ Does he think I wouldn’t care? Maybe it’s because of the jazz comment earlier? _ Hajime frowned. “Do you mind if I go with you two?”

“Nope! We’ll pick you up around seven.” Souda waved a goodbye and then was off down the hallway on a mad search for timpani mallets. 

 

* * *

 

 

At seven that night, a car horn beeped once outside Hajime apartment complex. He locked the door behind himself and got into Gundham’s Jeep. “Hey guys.” He buckled his seat belt, grateful Souda was not driving. Souda had a tendency to speed, to say the least. They made it to the jazz club and found a table. “Is it weird that I’m here? He didn’t invite me, so this is probably weird, right? If he notices me, just say I happened to come here the same night, alright?” Hajime mumbled as they sat down. Gundham gave him a look. 

“You’re acting like Souda.” Gundham raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. There was a faint squeaking and a hamster crawled out from his pocket to look around before jumping back in. “They agree with me.” Gundham nodded to the hamster. 

“You brought your hamsters? You’re gonna get us thrown out, Gundham.” Hajime rolled his eyes. Souda frowned. 

“Hey, uh, quick question. What do you mean ‘acting like Souda?’ ‘Cause I think I’m very adept at social situations.” Souda puffed out his chest. 

“Sure.” Hajime gave him a look. They sat through a saxophonist first, and when he was done, Hajime heard Nagito’s name from somewhere. When he saw Nagito emerge on stage, his first thought was  _ I’ve never seen him in a suit. _ His second thought was,  _ he looks really good,  _ and his third thought went along the lines of  _ what the fuck am I thinking? This is Nagito we’re talking about. _ He put a hand to his head and watched Nagito sit down at the piano. Somehow, the suit seemed to compliment his slight form and height. 

There was a second of nothingness, just the bated breath of everyone in the club. Dozens of eyes trained on Nagito, and his eyes (from what Hajime could see from under the mop of his hair) were focused on the piano keys. And then suddenly, he was playing. It was a fast tune that sounded familiar but Hajime couldn’t put a name to it. The rhythm was strange, but purposely so, keeping the audience on edge as they watched. But Nagito didn’t even seem to notice the audience at all. It was as if he was playing alone in the practice room, an excited smile creeping up his cheeks. Souda narrowed his eyes, watching the stage intently. 

“I know this song. It’s by Dave Brubeck. I played it a few years ago.” He stared closely at Nagito’s fingers flying across the keys. “If I remember right, it’s called Blue Rondo A La Turk. It’s pretty difficult if you’re not a big rhythm person since it’s in 9/8 timing.” 

“Nine eight.” Gundham frowned disdainfully. There was a small squeak from his pocket and he patted it calmingly. Nagito played another song afterwards that none of them knew and it went on much longer than Blue Rondo. Nagito’s entire body moved in time to the music when he played. It was as if he was being animated by some sort of spell, not just sitting at a piano and playing.  _ I underestimated his musicianship.  _ Hajime thought to himself.  _ I have a lot more in him that I can work with.  _ When Nagito finished playing, there was applause and in the blink of an eye he was gone. 

“You should tell him he did a good job.”

“Humans enjoy praise.” Gundham agreed with Souda.

“I’m not so sure.” Hajime shook his head, but a well-aimed shove from Souda pushed him from his chair.  _ And now I’m standing up like an idiot. If I just sit down again, I’ll look even dumber. Shit.  _ He took a breath, flashed Souda a discrete middle finger as he grabbed his drink and then was off towards the green room at the back of the club. Nagito was just leaving the room. Someone complimented him and he thanked them warmly, a genuinely happy look on his face. Hajime mustered his courage and then stopped for a moment.  _ Wait, why am I mustering my courage up to talk to Nagito? He’s, like, weird and I don’t completely care if he thinks I’m weird, too.  _ But whether or not Hajime would admit it to himself, something about Nagito made him nervous.  _ Maybe I’m intimidated now that I know how good of a player he is? No, because I never felt like that around Chiaki and she’s even better than him. In fact, I’m technically better than he is if you’re considering national rankings, so… nothing to be worried about. Nothing at all.  _ He stepped forward. “Hey, that was really great.”

“Thank you v-” Nagito blinked and turned around. “Hajime?”

“I hope you don’t mind I came to watch. Souda and Gundham invited me.” There was still not reaction, so Hajime continued. “Um, I really liked the first tune. The one with the weird timing.”

Nagito’s pale face flooded with color until he was tomato red, almost glowing in the dim lighting of the club. “Th-thank you, Hajime.” He looked down to the glass in Hajime’s hand. “Do you mind-”

“Oh, uh, here.” Hajime handed him the drink in his hand. Nagito opened his palm to reveal a small blue pill. 

“Advil. I’ve had a headache all day.”

“Probably from not sleeping.” Hajime shot him a pointed look. Nagito’s response was putting the Advil in his mouth and then taking a sip of Hajime’s drink. He swallowed with a sour expression. 

“That’s not water.”

“Gin and tonic.”

“Ah.” He laughed. “I would usually stay and watch, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to go another twenty four hours without sleep.” He scratched the back of his neck, staring up at the lights on the ceiling and squinting. 

“Would you, er, would you mind giving me a ride home? I live really close.” Hajime asked without meaning to. “Just ‘cause, erm, well I came with Gundham and Souda, but they’ll probably want to stay the whole night and-”

“It’s no bother, Hajime.” Nagito shook his head and dug through his pocket for his keys. They walked out to Nagito’s car and Hajime got in the passenger side. It was impeccably clean.  _ Well, hopefully he never sees my car. It looks like it went through an earthquake and got hit by a garbage truck on the way out.  _ Nagito, in short, was a terrible driver. He followed all the laws, that wasn’t the problem, it just seemed like he had no concept of what his spedometer meant. Hajime didn’t think he’d gone twenty on a thirty since he’d first learned to drive. Hajime directed him to his apartment complex. Nagito parked. “This is a nice place for a musician.” Nagito looked at the high end building. At Hajime’s pointed silence, he laughed apologetically. “Oh sorry, was that not appropriate?” Something told Hajime that Nagito genuinely didn’t know whether or not commenting on people’s incomes like that was polite.  _ Does he exist in real life? _

“Um, you can come in if you’d like.” Hajime said.  _ Wait. What did I just say? Why did I do that?! What part of me thought that was a good idea? _ But it was too late.

“Really?” Nagito straightened up. He parked the car and stood next to Hajime. He led the suspiciously excited Nagito to his apartment and unlocked the door. 

“Er, do you want something to drink?” 

“No, but thank you for the offer.” Nagito was looking at his shelf of music books. “Oh! Your violin.” He tilted his head and ran his eyes up and down the instrument like he hadn’t seen it countless times by then. Hajime walked over and picked it up. “I’ve never tried violin before. I’ve never been very good with bows.”

“Do you want to?” Hajime asked with a raised eyebrow. Nagito blinked.

“You’d let me…?”

“No. I have a few spares that I take on trips.” Hajime shook his head.  _ Nobody, and I mean nobody, touches my baby besides me.  _ He grabbed one from his room and handed it to Nagito. “You put it under your chin, like this. No, no. Here, like this.” He took a step closer to Nagito and fixed his form. Nagito was pliable and surprisingly warm to the touch. “Alright, not so bad. Now put your fingers here.” Hajime lined up Nagito’s fingers for him. “Okay, try running the bow across this string - _ carefully _ . No, no you have to hold the bow like this.” Hajime sighed and fixed Nagito’s posture and grip again. 

Nagito took a breath and then dragged the bow across the strings, creating an unearthly screech. Hajime winced. “Um. Not like that.”

“See, Hajime? I am utterly hopeless at violin.”

“Wait, did you really expect to be good right off the bat? On your first try? No one’s got beginner’s luck that great.” Hajime laughed incredulously. Nagito frowned bitterly.

“That’s how it was with piano. I could play beginner songs from my first lesson.” Nagito’s eyes were slightly cloudy. “I’m not a very patient person, so perhaps it was luck, like you said.”

“Well, it’s more than luck, too. I mean, you practice all the time, right? That takes hard work and genuine talent, not just dumb luck.” Hajime scratched his arm. He glanced over at Nagito to see his eyes sparkling with some form of newfound excitement. 

“You think so?” Nagito stared at the floor with a pensive expression as if it had only just then occurred to him that his piano talent might have taken hard work, not just luck. “That’s a very touching compliment, thank you Hajime.” He smiled brightly. Nagito sat down on Hajime’s couch and stared out the window. “I’d love to wake up to that view.” He murmured, tilting his head slightly in Hajime’s direction. Hajime coughed.  _ What is he implying there? _

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a beautiful view. If I lived here, I’d probably put my bed right here just to wake up to it.” Nagito gave him an innocent look.  _ He’s gotta know what he just said. Am I going crazy?  _ “Hm? Is something wrong, Hajime?”

“Er, no.” He straightened up.  _ If Nagito’s gonna play it cool, then I will, too.  _ “Is your headache any better?”

“Hm.” Nagito thought about it. “I suppose it is. Maybe you’re good luck, Hajime.” He watched as Hajime took the seat across from him. Nagito took a breath and Hajime caught sight of the way his hands were trembling slightly on his knees. Nagito followed his gaze and made a small noise. “My hands never shake when I play, did you know that? No matter how I nervous I am.” He looked away, an almost unnoticeable, rueful smile crossing his lips for a moment. “But I find talking with you rather nerve wracking. Funny, isn’t it?”

“You’re nervous about talking with…  _ me _ ?” Hajime raised his eyebrows.  _ I’m as awkward and lame as they come, Nagito, I’m nothing to be nervous of.  _ He thought to himself. Hajime had never thought of himself as someone who made others nervous. Nagito nodded slowly. 

“People make me nervous.” His gaze flickered back to Hajime. “I’ve never really felt like I understood those around me. And you’re especially fear-inducing because of how much I respect you… What would I do if you started to see me as everyone else does?” Nagito raised a single eyebrow, never breaking eye contact. Hajime thought back to his conversation with Souda.  _ People think he’s weird. I guess he  _ is _ a little weird. But not in a bad way. _

“I’m probably the last person you need to worry about thinking you’re strange, Nagito. I’m not exactly Mr. Cool like you’re worried about.”  _ Mr. Cool? What the fuck am I saying? Can someone duct tape my mouth shut already? _ Nagito smiled a little.  _ Shit, what am I supposed to do if someone’s nervous? Uh… a game? Yeah, a game would work. _ “Wanna play a game?”

“Alright.” Nagito looked both amused and surprised at the offer. 

“Uh, you know ‘never have I ever’, right?”

“Well, I haven’t played since high school.” The little jab took Hajime by surprise and he opened his mouth to say something along the lines of  _ it’s not my fault that you’re not giving me much to work with here  _ but fortunately, Nagito’s joking glance told him it wasn’t anything serious. 

“I’ll get drinks. You think of a question.” Hajime walked to his kitchen and poured two glasses of wine. Neither of them needed to be drunk that night and he figured wine would hardly put either of them over the edge. He set the two glasses down. “Nothing but the classiest for my party games.” He laughed. Nagito grinned. 

“Never have I ever graduated college.” He watched Hajime’s reaction as he took a sip of his wine. 

“Really? You didn’t?”

“I was busy with piano.”  _ So he was good enough to get into such a good orchestra without even having a prestigious music degree. I wonder what the story behind that is.  _ “Your turn, Hajime.”

“Uh, alright, never have I ever done drugs.” Hajime watched Nagito take a sip of wine. 

“High school is difficult when people scare you.” He justified. Hajime shrugged an agreement. “Never have I ever… dated a coworker.”

Hajime took a swallow of wine with a small glare. He was sure Nagito didn’t know the truth about him and Chiaki, but either way he had to have guessed a little.  _ Well, then again, Nagito isn’t the best at picking up social cues. Like, at all. So maybe he really didn’t guess.  _ “Never have I ever shoplifted.” Neither of them lifted their glasses. Nagito’s eyes caught his and he paused for a moment. 

“Never have I ever been with a man.” Nagito pulled his cup to his own lips and drank, watching Hajime with a careful expression.  _ What’s the point of asking a question to put himself out, unless… No. That can’t be it. I’m sure he doesn’t care about the question  _ that _ much… Or maybe he does? Maybe it’s just his headache talking. I hope so. For both our sakes.  _ Hajime sighed and took a sip. Nagito raised an eyebrow, still watching Hajime with a too-intent expression that seemed to burn straight through him. Nagito’s head tilted just slightly towards Hajime and his eyes narrowed, watching the violinist through pale lashes. “I wasn’t joking about being a fan of yours, Hajime. You don’t have to think of me as just an accompanist.”

“As opposed to what?” Hajime’s voice was harsher than he meant for it to be, but Nagito didn’t flinch back. He just crossed his legs and stayed silent for a moment.

“You can ask anything of me, Hajime. I’ve spent a long time trying to be nearly good enough to be at your side and now by some grace of God, I’ve been given the luck to do it.” His eyes were faraway and cloudy again. 

“Don’t say things like that.” Hajime frowned and leaned back, farther away from Nagito, who suddenly snapped back into focus. “You’re making me nervous, Nagito.”  Nagito stared down at his hands.

“I-I… I think you’re right, Hajime. It’s probably time I leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nagito stood up quickly and before Hajime could do or say anything, he was out the door.  _ What a headache. _ Hajime grumbled in his mind and set off to bed. 

The morning after, he blinked and rolled over on his side. He rubbed his eyes and stretched slowly. Hajime had woken up around five am as long as he could remember. His internal clock had never been off, save for a few hangovers and sick days in the past. He took his leisurely time getting dressed and eating breakfast before he gave the clock a quick glance and jumped to his feet. It was 6:15 am.  _ I was supposed to be in the practice room fifteen minutes ago and I haven’t even left.  _ He threw on his jacket in a hurry, grabbed his keys, and ran to the car. Driving and parking only took ten minutes,  _ but still… would Nagito really wait twenty five minutes for a single practice? He’s in a ton of other groups and he’s in the full orchestra, he’s probably got other practices scheduled.  _ Hajime was slightly out of breath by the time he reached the practice room. He could faintly hear piano music and when he pulled open the door, Nagito was sitting at the bench, playing with his eyes closed. “Nagito-” Hajime started. 

The music stopped and Nagito swivelled around to face him. “Ah, good morning, Hajime.” His voice was less cheery than usual.  _ Shit. He’s mad. I mean, he has a right to be, but… _ Hajime took a breath. The silence in the room was deafening and suffocating Hajime to his core.  _ This was disrespectful of me. He’s a talented musician, same as me, so I should have respected the time he puts into this. _

“I’m sorry.”

“I wanted to apologize.” Nagito and him spoke at the same time. They both looked up in surprise. “What are you apologizing for?”

“What are  _ you _ apologizing for?” Hajime echoed. “I felt bad because I was almost a half hour late to meet you for practice.”

“I thought you were late because you were angry with me.” Nagito looked smaller than usual. “I owe you an apology for my behaviour last night.”

“It’s really okay-”

“I didn’t mean to let so many of my feelings out so soon-

“Wait  _ what _ ?” Hajime straightened up. Nagito flashed him an apologetic grin but didn’t explain himself. “Um, okay, Y’know what? I’m just gonna grab my violin and then we’ll start playing.” He reached down for his violin, but his hand touched cold wood. He blinked and looked down. “Where’s my violin?”

“I assure you I didn’t steal it.”

“Well  _ yeah _ , but… Oh my God. I left it at home. I didn’t even realize.” Hajime smoothed his hair back.  _ What’s wrong with me today? Why am I so off my game? _ “Jeez, I’m sorry. This is really ridiculous of me, I’m not sure what’s gotten into me today.”

“No, it’s alright. We can still work together without your violin. I think…” Nagito cut himself off, averting his eyes. He closed them for a second too long and when they reopened, he seemed more determined than before. “I think my inability to attune myself to you has dampered our playing and I wish to find a way to fix it.” Nagito was oddly still, like he was carved from stone, not flesh and blood. 

“And how do you recommend we do that?” Hajime was confused.  _ Will Nagito really ever make sense to me? Ever? _ He sighed in his mind. There was another painful silence. Nagito’s eyes connected with Hajime’s and locked on like a heat sensitive missile. There was something wading in their pale depths but Hajime knew he couldn’t figure it out.  _ Maybe that’s Nagito’s point? _ He thought to himself. The longer he looked at them, the more he felt Nagito’s eyes were begging him to understand that look in them. Nagito suddenly shifted forward on the piano bench and took Hajime’s hands in his. “Uh-” Hajime frowned, looking down at where they connected. 

“Hajime,” Nagito’s voice was soft. They locked eyes again. “I will do everything in my power to play this piece perfectly for you and to be the best accompanist I can be. I hope you can forgive the parts of me that will set us back.”

“Um. Yeah.” Hajime could feel his face growing hot.  _ Why is he holding my hands? Does he not realize how weird this is? _ Nagito let go of him and leaned back again. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hajime.” He smiled and was off. Hajime could feel his skin tingle where Nagito had touched him once again. 

 

* * *

 

 

Nagito stuck to his word the next few weeks. He put his all into every practice and played as well as was humanly possible for him to do at the drop of a hat. Hajime was pretty sure that if he asked Nagito to learn the Death Waltz, he’d find a way to do it. In fact, he was pretty sure he could ask Nagito to practice twelve hours a day more than what he was already doing and he’d play until his fingers bled for Hajime. It was a disturbingly satisfying feeling to have. A feeling of control in a place where he shouldn’t have that much of it. That being said, their playing was getting better. The competition was only a week away when the director called them both into his office. 

“Hajime, Nagito, I want to raise the stakes on you.”

“Please do!” Nagito smiled. Hajime wondered if he was genuinely happy over stress or just an amazing actor. Mr. Saihara gave Nagito a look. 

“I was unsure about you two, at first. Hajime, you’re… a very skilled musician, but like I said before, without maturity, there’s no way I can put you where I want you in my orchestra. Nagito, you’re immature for a different reason. You’d only studied with Chisa a few years before you joined us and you’ve never studied music at a university level.”  _ Wait a minute- _ Hajime’s brains started, but before his thought process could continue, the director was continuing his own train of thought. “However, from what I’ve heard, you two are playing together beautifully. So, if you two score a superior rating at this competition, I will include your duet in our next set of scheduled performances.” 

Hajime couldn’t hold back his gasp. It took most duets and solos years before the director would grant them any sort of place in on of the orchestra’s major performances. The director shot him a look. 

“This is a big opportunity for you both. Don’t mess it up.” With that, he dismissed them. The moment they were out of the room, Hajime felt a smile climb its way up his face in delight. He held up his hand for a high five to Nagito. Nagito looked at his hand with a blank look. He sighed and grabbed Nagito’s wrist, slapping their hands together. 

“Y’know, high fives, Nagito?”

“Er, yes. Sorry, Hajime.”

“But seriously. This is amazing. We should go celebrate.” Hajime smiled. Nagito’s eyes went a little wide. They hadn’t seen each other outside of practice other than the occasional lunch since the night at Hajime’s house. “Y’know I have some champagne I haven’t opened, we could-”

“Sure, Hajime.” Nagito didn’t wait for the end of invitation. 

For once, they were both able to find some means of conversation long enough to get to Hajime’s apartment and by the time Hajime unlocked the door, he felt another rush of excitement hit him. “And y’know what else, Nagito? I really think we have a shot at winning this.” He clapped Nagito on the back. “I think if we keep up our practicing and perfect every detail before the competition, I’m positive we’ll do well. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this sure about a competition, before.” Nagito’s smile was wide, too. He looked actually, genuinely happy, and this time, for a reason Hajime could understand. Hajime opened the champagne and poured two glasses. “We’ll save the rest of this for when we win.” He winked. 

“You’re so full of hope. It’s beautiful, Hajime.”

“Thank you!” He was in too good of a mood to comment on Nagito’s strange compliments. “I’ve wanted to do a duet or solo like this for so long. I always figured it’d be with… well nevermind that, but… It feels really good to know that my hard work is finally paying off. I don’t even know how to tell you how much this means to me. Like, I’m so happy I could kiss someone right now.” He laughed, but when he looked back up, Nagito’s face was serious. He’d taken a seat across from Hajime, at his island. 

“You could.” He said it with such a straight face that Hajime couldn’t make any sense of the true sentiment behind his words.  _ Is he joking? Is he being serious? I’m reading way too much into this, I’m sure.  _ Nagito’s eyes darted across the counter. He reached for a small, paper box and inspected it. “What are these?”

“Oh, um, a gift from Gundham and Souda for my birthday last year. They’ve got a violin design on the back, see?” He took the box from Nagito and flicked it open to reveal a set of playing cards. “Do you know any card games?”

“Lots.” Nagito nodded. 

“Erm, King’s Corner?” Hajime offered as Nagito took the cards again, inspecting the designs. Nagito nodded and began shuffling the cards with a trained expertise. “Do you wanna bet on it?” Hajime asked as a joke, but Nagito shrugged.

“If Hajime would like to.”

“You’re, wow, how do you do that?” Hajime pointed to the way Nagito was shuffling the cards. He grinned and let out a short laugh. 

“I lived near a casino at one time. I worked as a croupier in the summers when I turned eighteen to get out of the house.” He laid out the cards on the island counter and then dealt seven cards to the both of them. “How much are you betting?”

“We’re really gonna do this? Alright, uh fifty bucks.”

“Good luck.” Nagito seemed suddenly more confident as he turned the first four cards over, a focused look in his eyes.  _ He said something about luck once before, too.  _ Hajime remembered as he watched the cards turn over in front of him. They were neither good nor bad and he didn’t have a particularly terrible or great hand, either. He drew and played a few cards before ending his turn. Nagito gave the cards a long glance. He laid down half his hand, rearranged the cards on the counter and played the rest.

“You forgot to draw.” Hajime pointed out.  _ There’s no way someone wins like that right off the bat. It’s, like, a one in a million chance.  _ Nagito smiled apologetically. He drew his card and smiled. He placed it down, between two other cards. A red king. Hajime’s mouth fell open. “No way. That’s amazing.”

“You think so?” Nagito mused, shuffling the cards back together. “It’s nothing more than luck.” He put the red king down with the rest of the pile last and finished shuffling. “Double or nothing?” He raised an eyebrow. Hajime laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” 

Nagito won, again, but the game at least lasted four or five rounds the second time around. When they were finished, Nagito’s hands hovered above the deck. “Would you like to try your luck one last time?”

“You must have been good as a croupier.” Hajime rolled his eyes, but let Nagito continue laying out the cards. “This is the last time, though. Otherwise, I’ll end up owing you my house by the end of the night.” 

Nagito cracked a smile at the joke and set out the cards. “It shouldn’t be too difficult. You have an advantage since you’re not the dealer and it’s a two person game. In a game like King’s Corner, the first person after the dealer could always get the perfect hand. You always have the chance to win, so there’s always a chance it would be impossible for me to. Chance is a strange thing.” Nagito waited while Hajime played. “Did you know, ‘ la chance’ in French means luck? Poetic, isn’t it? Luck is really just a game of chance.” When Hajime knocked on the counter, Nagito played as much of his hand as he could and passed the turn to Hajime. Hajime grinned and set down his cards. 

“I win.” His voice was cocky, but he didn’t tone it down. Nagito seemed to be in a good mood and he’d never been exactly sensitive to begin with. 

“Well then it looks like I owe you.” Nagito smirked. He watched Hajime’s hands as he poured another glass of champagne for them both. Nagito started putting the cards back in the deck, but one of them flicked out of his hand and onto the floor near Hajime. Hajime set down the bottle and leaned down to pick it up. When he straightened up, Nagito was standing in front of him. It took all his willpower to not jump. Nagito took the card from him, but instead of turning back to the box of cards, he inspected Hajime’s hand like it was some interesting artifact. “I never noticed your calluses.” 

Hajime watched Nagito brush his fingers over the tips of Hajime’s fingers, where the skin had grown rougher from years of playing a stringed instrument. He took Nagito’s hand and turned it over, purposely ignoring the little catch in Nagito’s breath when he did so. “You’ve got them too, y’know.” He gestured to where calluses had formed at the top of Nagito’s palm. 

“They’re from carrying my keyboard case.” He laughed a little. He leaned forward, closer - _ too close _ \- and placed his hand over a spot on Hajime’s neck. “This is from your violin too, isn’t it?” He could feel Nagito’s breath on the bruise his violin left on his neck. He shivered. “I’ve always thought it’s rather erotic that that happens. You put your soul into an instrument and it leaves its mark on you, just like a real lover would.” Nagito’s eyes were half lidded as he spoke. Usually when they talked for this long, Nagito seemed as if he was going through an intensive mental process trying to decide each word to use, but now he seemed suddenly fluid in his speech. No hesitation or censorship, each word pulled perfectly from his mind like silk.

“Er, Nagito-” Hajime began but he never finished the sentence because suddenly, he was being pushed back and Nagito’s lips were crashing into his. Up to this point, Nagito had always been unpredictable, but only to a normal extent.  _ He’s never been suddenly-kiss-you-without-warning unpredictable. I have no idea what to do. _ Hajime hesitated and then kissed back, before realizing what he was doing.  _ Wait what the fuck am I doing? Why am I indulging this? This is such a bad idea- _ But the part of his brain with common sense’s voice was starting to grow fainter and fainter as he continued kissing Nagito. He pushed Nagito onto the counter, standing between his legs. His hands dragged up Nagito’s sides, half-heartedly trying to pull up his sweater. Nagito noticed and seemed to grin a little in a way that spurred Hajime on. The soft skin on Nagito’s sides was surprisingly cold for how warm his sweater must be. In fact, it seemed that almost  _ everything _ suddenly felt hot besides his skin, leaving a feeling like mint on Hajime’s hands. His hands were suddenly on Nagito’s thighs, moving upwards and eliciting an almost startled gasp from Nagito. There was a brief ghost of grin. A pale hand landed on the counter, startlingly close to his set of knives. He paused, much to Nagito’s obvious chagrin, and helped pull him off the counter. “Couch.” He managed, nodding towards the living room. Nagito just nodded with a blank look and took the few steps to the couch before they connected again. They were in the exact spot where Nagito and him had played Never Have I Ever, bringing up the memory of Nagito’s strangely pointed question. “ _ Never have I ever been with a man.” _ He’d put himself out of the game, just to see if Hajime was interested in men. “Was this your plan all along?” Hajime realized with a shocking clarity and pulled off of Nagito.  _ All the talking about being a fan of mine and going out of his way to request me. Was this just some sort of weird stalker crush that’s finally coming to fruition for him? _ Nagito’s eyes went wide. 

“I’m not sure what you mean, Hajime.” He feigned dumb, shifting backwards from Hajime on the couch like their contact was suddenly painful. 

“Did you… Did you request to work with me because you… I don’t know, you wanted to sleep with me?” Hajime felt stupid saying the words, but he needed to know. Nagito froze, mouth slightly open. 

“Well that’s rather presumptuous, Hajime. Do you normally have people changing careers to throw themselves at you?” His voice was icy. Different and hostile.  _ Shit, I’m ruining this. I’m definitely ruining this.  _

“Wait, uh, ‘changing careers?’” Hajime echoed. Nagito froze completely and managed to widen his eyes even more, somehow. Nagito leaned in and began kissing Hajime again. _I’m not dumb, I know he’s trying to distract me from something, but…_ _This is an alright distraction, I guess._ Hostile Nagito was gone in the blink of an eye. Hajime blinked and suddenly Nagito was reversing their position, crawling over him. He’d expected the sudden glimpse to a hidden side of Nagito’s personality to make him wary, but instead he felt a sick rise in the newfound sharpness.

“Hajime?” He met his gaze.

“Hm?”

“You won the last game of King’s Corner, so… I owe you, don’t I?” Nagito’s voice was careful, treading the little line that he knew would push Hajime too far. Far enough to get him to end whatever the hell it was that was happening. Hajime couldn’t stop the sudden, audible breath he took. 

“I, uh, I suppose you’re right.”

Nagito was shifting downwards until he was crouched on his knees in front of Hajime. He tilted his head, the innocent look on his face telling Hajime that his thoughts were anything but. “I should pay you back.” He mumbled, a hand reaching out to Hajime’s thigh. “I have money…”  _ That hand is moving, okay, uh- _ “Or other things?” Nagito raised his eyebrow at the same time he flicked his tongue at the end of the sentence. Pale hands crept their way up Hajime’s jeans. When they reached their destination, he bit back a gasp and settled for dragging a palm across Nagito’s cheek. Unbuttoning his pants seemed to take a painfully long time, until Hajime was getting impatient and reckless in a way that he hadn’t in a long time. Time seemed to stop as Nagito reached for him. Hajime felt like he could see every flushed piece of skin on Nagito’s face, every cool shade of green in his eyes. Even the city lights behind Nagito’s head were shining in a way Hajime didn’t want to forget. 

 

_ RING RING RING _

 

Hajime’s cell phone rang and time started again. Nagito stopped, watching him slowly reach for the phone and check who was calling. “I, er, it’s my mom.” Hajime mumbled. He looked away. “She’s, um, going through some stuff, I should really take this, I’m sorry.”  _ Of course. Of course I have to get a call right now.  _ He closed his eyes in annoyance.  _ Maybe this is a good thing. God trying to protect me from myself.  _ “I’ll be right back.” He stood up, wincing, and headed to his bedroom. “Mom? This really isn’t a good time-”

“Hajime? Did I call you?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Honey, you sound out of breath… Are you alright?”

“Yep. One hundred percent. I’ll talk to you later then, if there’s nothing going on.” Hajime waited for his mom’s goodbye before hanging up. He stared at the phone in his hands.  _ Maybe I was right. It was a good thing my mom butt dialed me. I can’t make the same mistakes with Nagito that I did with Chiaki.  _ He ducked back out of his bedroom to find Nagito flipping through his coffee table books. 

“Hajime, I didn’t know you had such an affinity for…” He read the front cover of the book he was flipping through. “Haunted restaurants of New York City.” 

Hajime sat down on the couch next to him. “We shouldn’t do what we were going to do.”

“Mm.” Nagito didn’t agree or disagree, he just acknowledged. 

“I think, um, I think that maybe because we’ve spent so much time together lately, and because we’re becoming so attached as musicians, that we’re confusing, uh…  _ closeness _ with um, something else. I don’t want this to ruin things for us.” Hajime was fidgeting. He couldn’t look Nagito in the eyes.  _ This is awkward. I hate this. Maybe one blowjob wouldn’t be so bad, I mean- _

“Alright, Hajime. But do know, I’m patient.” Nagito gave him a look that had to have more meaning than his words, but Hajime was still lost as to what that meaning was. 

“I have a question.”

“I hope I have an answer that amuses you in some way.”  _ That’s a really weird of phrasing that but alright, Nagito. Whatever floats your boat.  _

“What did you mean when you said you switched careers earlier?”

“Oh.” Nagito fell silent for a moment. He stared out the window, towards the now-dark city landscape. “I wasn’t originally going to be a pianist. That’s ungrateful, isn’t it?” Nagito turned to face Hajime. “So many people sacrifice everything for my opportunity and it’s not even what I wanted in the first place.”

“Well what did you want?”

“Nothing.” Nagito’s eyes were empty and honest. “I wanted nothing and I wanted to be nothing. Does that make sense to you, Hajime?” He looked at Hajime with such sudden vulnerability that Hajime couldn’t help but answer honestly. 

“I… Yes.”

“You’re a really wonderful person, Hajime. I’m proud to be a friend of yours.” Nagito smiled.  _ Friend? We’re friends? _ Hajime wasn’t sure why that idea seemed so foreign to him. Nagito had never seemed like the kind of person who  _ had _ friends, not to mention that he’d never really seen him and Nagito as friends. Sure, they saw each other every day, but it was for work. Strictly professional.  _ Or maybe I just thought that. Maybe he’s never had a lot of friends and so he thinks talking to someone makes them your friend? Or maybe that  _ is  _ how it works and I’m just mean? Honestly, I wouldn’t know.  _

“So if you didn’t plan on doing music and Shuichi said you only started training with Chisa later, then… what did you do before?”

And like that, the warmness was gone. Nagito’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. “I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.”

“Um. Okay.” Hajime blinked in surprise. He took a breath. “Do you want to spend the night?” He’d managed to somehow offend Nagito, the least he could do was offer a bed for the night. Nagito stopped, a look of surprise spreading across his face. 

“You would…  _ trust _ me enough to welcome me into your home overnight?” Nagito stammered slightly, thin fingers brushing against the fabric of the couch like it would root him in reality. Hajime shrugged, suddenly regretting the offer.

“Er, sure. Yeah.” Hajime shuffled in his seat. “I mean, when you say it like that, it’s weird.”

“Excuse my inappropriate phrasing, Hajime.”

“It’s okay.” Hajime was beginning to see why exactly people thought Nagito was strange on such a deep level. As Nagito stood up, he glanced at the display case on the other end of Hajime’s apartment. 

“You have a lot of medals, Hajime.” He looked back. Hajime felt his face grow a little hotter. Nagito pointed to one on the far left of the case. “I recognize that one.”

“Chiaki and I won it at a national competition back in middle school. Were you in the same competition?”

“Ah… Yes?” Nagito seemed to hesitate with his words. Hajime couldn’t tell if he was lying or genuinely forgetting whether or not he was there as they spoke. “Chiaki, your accompanist?” Nagito didn’t seem to notice Hajime’s uncomfortable reaction. “It’s a shame what happened-”

“Nagito.” Hajime warned, but the taller man pressed on. Hajime stood up and walked over to the display case where Nagito was standing.

“She was very talented. I can see why you requested her to play with you at so many competitions, well  _ every _ competition now that I think about it, and-”

“Nagito, shut up.” Hajime grimaced. Nagito looked confused.

“Hm? There’s no need to worry, Hajime. I don’t blame you for Chiaki's indiscretions at all. It’s just such a waste that her actions almost ruined both of your careers-” Nagito didn’t seem to realize the blow his words were dealing to Hajime. 

Hajime shoved Nagito away from the trophy case. There was a pause, ripe with a thick silence. Hajime took a breath. Nagito didn’t. Hajime’s eyes travelled to where his forearm trapped Nagito against the wall, his perfectly ironed sweater rippling under Hajime’s. His eyes moved upwards. Nagito had a frenzied look, but it wasn’t afraid. Maybe it had been, for just a moment when Hajime first lashed out (he was human, after all), but now something else was curling behind his eyes, getting ready to strike. Excitement boiling over to a dangerous point. Nagito looked  _ happy _ that Hajime had shoved him. Happy that he’d pushed Hajime so far. He made no attempt to get away or fight back.  _ Jesus Christ, what am I doing?  _ Hajime realized and the second was over.  _ He doesn’t even know why he’s pissing me off and now I’m throwing the weakest guy I know into a wall like a rag doll?  _ Hajime took his arm away and Nagito quickly smoothed out his shirt. He finally took that breath Hajime had been waiting to hear and then looked him square in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Hajime, it wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

_ That’s a lie _ , Hajime countered in his brain. He straightened up. “I should be the one apologizing. That was inappropriate of me, I should-”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Nagito inspected his fingernails before looking back up. “You could hit me if you wanted to. I’d let you do it.”

Hajime frowned. He raised a hand, formed a fist, and brought it down as hard as he could, stopping just before it would hit Nagito. True to his word, Nagito hardly even flinched, just stared at Hajime with a strangely broken admiration. “You really mean that.” Hajime whispered, frown setting. 

“Honesty is a virtue.” Nagito chirped. He leaned to the side, resting his cheek on Hajime’s hand which had been previously floating in space after his attempt to call Nagito on his bluff. Not for the first time, Hajime thought that Nagito moved like a cat as he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Hajime’s hand. “You don’t remember, do you?” Nagito asked after a pause, voice suddenly halting as he spoke. 

“Remember what?”  _ I’m beyond confused. Every time he opens his mouth, I feel like the world is spinning a little faster and I’m starting to get  _ very _ dizzy. _

Nagito took a careful breath. He hummed, a low, reedy sound. A hand rested over Hajime’s, just enough pressure in the fingers for him to know it was more than an instinctual movement. “You were very kind to me once, Hajime. Not many people are kind to a wretch like me.” 

“Nagito, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. We met for the first time when Shuichi introduced us-”

Nagito laughed. It was hollow and pained with something riding the waves of his voice. _Regret. That’s what I’m sensing._ Hajime realized after a second. Nagito shook his head, wild hair shaking around him like froth. Suddenly the hand over his was shaking, a distant look clouding Nagito’s eyes. Hajime felt his brows furrow as he leaned in closer to Nagito, hoping desperately that maybe if he saw more of his face, he would be able to understand a shred of what was going on. Instead, his action was misread as something entirely different -or maybe it wasn’t- and without warning, Nagito’s lips were on his, again. An anxious feeling settled over him, telling him that _this is definitely a terrible idea._ But Hajime figured, _what’s the harm in messing around one night? I’m sure Nagito’ll forget in the morning._ _Maybe. Possibly. Shit._ “Nagito-” He breathed, pulling away just slightly. Nagito looked up at his name, tilting his head. “What if this really messes with us? Like, we get super awkward to each other after this and then everything we’ve worked for is ruined?”

He laughed again, this time louder and with a hand thrown over his mouth for some sort of terrible comedic effect. “Hajime,” He took a gasp of air. “I would never let my useless emotions get in the way of our duet. I know this particular competition is important to you. If you’re unhappy with whatever path we choose, then I’ll never speak of it, again.”

“That’s…”  _ A really difficult offer to turn down. Attractive coworker throwing themselves at me and then we never have to talk about it again to avoid the awkward post-fling crap? Wait… _ Hajime flicked himself.  _ Okay. Yeah. This is definitely real life. Not a weird, I dunno, bad wet dream with way too much dialogue. _ Nagito was watching him with oddly hungry eyes. Hajime wet his lips, taking a nervous swallow. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and kissed Nagito, again. He gave him a little slack from the wall, fearing it would be uncomfortable on his back, but Nagito took the action as an invitation to sink to his knees in front of Hajime. “Wait-” Hajime started, but his pants were already in the process of being removed again. What had felt like ages the last time now felt like a millisecond as Nagito palmed him through his boxers, eliciting a noise he tried desperately to cover. Unfortunately, he acted too late and the other man looked up with a little smirk. Hajime felt his dick twitch.  _ That is a face. Wow. Smirking. Great. I’m a terrible person, this is going to end horribly, isn’t it? _

The truth was, Hajime hadn’t ever really thought of Nagito  _ that _ way. He’d always been too unstable to be attainable, and in a complicated way… too  _ close _ . They saw each other every day and for Hajime, music was his life. It had become something intimate that meant the world to him and because Nagito shared that part of him with Hajime, he too had become a member of the inner circle of Hajime’s brain.  _ It’s weird, though. I mean, he’s definitely attractive. In a unique way, yeah, but still… Er, handsome’s not the right word. Erm… Pretty? Yeah. He’s pretty. And I guess I was still into Chiaki even though we worked together. So maybe I’m just overthinking this ‘cause Nagito’s a little  _ off _ sometimes. Yeah. That’s gotta be it. This is no big deal. Just two friendly coworkers who maybe happened to fool around once. Happens all the time, I’m sure.  _

Hajime hadn’t been paying complete attention so he missed the complete build up to his dick suddenly being in Nagito’s mouth. He almost jumped, feeling himself being guided to put his back against the wall where Nagito had been just moments prior. Nagito seemed content with the obvious surprise he’d brought Hajime to and pulled away to smile for a split second. This time, it was Hajime’s heart that twitched before he could stop it. “Is this okay with Hajime?” Nagito asked, taking his  _ sweet _ time in phrasing each word, like he knew exactly what he was doing.  _ Maybe there’s more method to that madness than I thought. _ Hajime mused.

“Yes, it’s completely fine-  _ oh _ ,  _ okay _ -” Hajime made a high pitched noise as Nagito continued down his shaft with his mouth.  _ That wasn’t a yelp, was it? Is Nagito going to judge me for this? I haven’t gotten laid in forever and the pacing of this whole scenario is not exactly normal, so it’s hardly my fault. Who am I justifying this to? Definitely not him.  _ Hajime held back a sigh at himself. He didn’t want to be  _ that guy _ but his hands found their way to the tangled mess of Nagito’s hair before he realized and by that point he figured there wouldn’t be too much harm in digging them in there. Nagito seemed to appreciate the gesture, eyes closing slightly as he took a sudden, shallow breath. Hajime wanted to stop and ask him again if this was really a good idea, because he was getting too into this and it was most likely going to make everything awkward between them, but instead he just sucked in another breath. 

Suddenly, Nagito’s pace increased and Hajime gripped his hair harder, knowing he had to be pulling too tightly for it to be comfortable, but Nagito didn’t complain. Hajime wondered idly what he’d have to do to make Nagito complain. Something told him it would be something so extreme that he didn’t want to consider it. He wanted that thought to scare him, but it spurred him on more. A sudden shock burst through Hajime and his eyes snapped open. Numbness was building inside him too quickly. “Nagito- wait.” 

“Is something wrong, Hajime?” Nagito pulled away, lips wet and face flushed. The sudden pause in contact bothered Hajime more than he would’ve liked to admit. He shook his head quickly, hoping Nagito would  _ just fucking keep going _ . Fortunately, he did. 

“I-I’m gonna-” Hajime started. Nagito understood. For a moment, the world was white hot and gone and then far too soon, Hajime was back. He blinked and looked down, just in time to catch Nagito wipe a thin arm over his mouth, eyes hazy. Hajime wondered if he’d ever seen a sight so nice before. “I should, ah, y’know-” Hajime took a breath to recover and then leaned down, dragging Nagito back up to his feet. He was light and pliable, suddenly bouncing to his feet.

“Not necessary, Hajime. I hate to impose, but if I could use your shower, I’d be very grateful.” Nagito’s skin was warm on the tips of his fingers, where he brushed them across the hand of Hajime’s that was helping him up. 

“Yeah, yeah of course. Um here.” Hajime led Nagito to his bathroom. “I’ll, uh, get you a towel.” Hajime had never pictured himself getting flustered over talking to Nagito, but then again  _ I guess blowjobs change the story a little.  _ He walked to his closet and grabbed a towel from his closet.  _ Thank God I did laundry a few days ago.  _ Hajime thought to himself as he carried the towel down to the bathroom. The door was closed, so Hajime knocked. It opened slowly. Nagito was only in his boxers, but didn’t seem to have any qualms about Hajime seeing. Hajime felt his face heat up. “Er, here’s your towel, I’m gonna, um… Yeah.” He handed the towel to Nagito and closed the door, hating the feeling he had in his chest.  _ That was a one time thing don’t get the wrong idea. Don’t get ahead of yourself. _ Hajime retreated to his room, listening to the sound of the running water and staring at the ceiling. He took a shallow breath. 

_ Okay, so…  _ that _ happened I guess.  _ He closed his eyes. The water really was relaxing to listen to.  _ But it’s not a big deal. Sex is just sex, it’s not even romantic or anything. Chiaki and I were serious back when we played together and it never got in the way of our playing. Y’know, it probably made our teamwork better, actually. I mean, in a way, this was probably good for our teamwork, too, right? We were really awkward around each other, before. This might make it worse, buutt… well, best case scenario it’ll improve things. Nagito’s kinda weird, maybe he figured that, too? Maybe that’s why he did it? I suppose either way, I can play along until the competition’s over. It’s not like we’ll see much of each other after it, anyway.  _ Hajime yawned, adjusting in the bed to get more comfortable. He could still hear the water.  _ Nagito sure takes long showers.  _ Hajime thought to himself, a comfortable weariness settling over his limbs. His breathing started to slow down.  _ I’ll just, er, “rest my eyes” for a bit. Yeah.  _ Hajime drifted into a peaceful sleep. 

 

* * *

 

 

A few moments later, Nagito Komaeda exited Hajime’s bathroom, once again boxer clad. The apartment was eerily silent. He took a careful step into the hall and looked around. No sign of Hajime. “Hajime?” He tried once. No response. Nagito crossed the hall and peeked into the bedroom. Hajime was sprawled across the bed, already deep in sleep. He felt a grin cross his face. Nagito ducked back into the living room and towards the trophy case where he’d angered Hajime. He looked through them, this time without Hajime’s annoyed gaze.  _ No dust. He takes good care of them.  _ This fact surprised Nagito slightly. Other than a few specific medals and plaques, his trophies meant nothing to him for the most part.  _ Ah, it must be because Hajime is so dedicated to his talent. And such a talent it is… _ Nagito sucked in a breath, careful not to leave fingerprints on any of the shiny metal. His self control vanished, however, when he reached the award that had started everything earlier. “Awarded to Hajime Hinata and Chiaki Nanami for musical excellence.” It read, with a date. Four years ago.  _ Has it really only been four years?  _ Nagito wondered idly, picking up the trophy and running his thumb over the decorative top piece.  _ It feels like eons.  _ The trophy felt the same as his from the same competition. 

_ I shouldn’t have brought up that we met before. I almost ruined my plan.  _ Nagito sighed and put it back. He straightened up and turned back to the bedroom.  _ Hajime offered for me to spend the night, right? So he wouldn’t be offended if I took advantage of the opportunity?  _ Nagito decided that even if he was, the reward was worth the cost, so he walked quietly to Hajime’s bed and laid down next to him. He turned on his side, watching Hajime’s face. “Hm.” He hummed quietly with fascination.  _ I wonder if he’d sleep so peacefully with me here if he remembered who I am? Hajime is a man of common sense, so I assume not.  _ Nagito moved closer, careful not to wake the other man.  _ Fortunately for me, he’s blissfully unaware of how horrific I am. He shouldn’t be scared of me. I would never hurt Hajime.  _

Nagito thought about how many months he’d spent practicing just so he could get this close to Hajime again.He held his breath, waiting, but the moment didn’t end and Hajime didn’t wake up, so he took a breath and let his weight rest more heavily on the bed. Nagito wanted to stay awake and enjoy this, but he could feel sleep making his eyelids heavier.  _ Well, at least I’m falling asleep next to Hajime of all people. _ Nagito figured as he drifted off. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hajime Hinata’s internal clock woke him up at five am as usual. He stretched leisurely, hand hitting solid flesh as he woke up for the first time in a long while. He pulled his arm back quickly, surprised. When he saw it was just Nagito in his bed, he relaxed and sat up in his bed. He could hear a bird chirping outside as he stood up and started to pull some clothes on. Nagito’s shirt and jeans were folded and tucked away carefully on his desk chair and he stopped. Hajime turned back to the sleeping figure in his bed. He stared at the clothes before his eyes travelled downwards to his own groin. “Oh my God.” He blinked. “He sucked my dick.”  _ What the hell was I thinking? This is the exact  same mistake I made with Chiaki that I promised I’d never do again and now I’m… fucking it all up for some random accompanist? I have no self control. Shuichi’s gonna murder me if he finds out and good on him for it. Shit.  _ Hajime felt his eyes widen. 

“Nnh.” Nagito mumbled from the bed, stretching out slightly. Hajime froze and waited for Nagito to open his eyes, groggy and confused looking. “Hajime?” He wondered aloud, patting the empty spot next to him. When his hand hit comforter rather than flesh, he opened his eyes more and sat up, catching sight of Hajime. “Good morning, Hajime. I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep.” 

“Um,” Hajime felt his mind go blank. Nagito’s hair was just as disheveled as usual, but it flopped into his face a little more than it normally did. He was still only wearing his boxers and his long legs were tangled up in Hajime’s sheets.  _ Wait a fucking second… Why am I getting all tongue tied over Nagito Komaeda? Calm down, Hajime _ . Hajime put a hand to his forehead. “You, er, didn’t ‘disturb my sleep’ at all. Do you want to, uh, borrow a shirt?” Hajime gestured to Nagito’s neatly folded shirt. For as dishevelled as he looked, Nagito was usually overly clean and he didn’t seem like the type to wear last night’s clothes. Nagito leaned on his elbows. 

“Is… Is that alright?” He asked like it was some grand show of friendship. 

“Yeah.” Hajime dug through his wardrobe and found his smallest shirt, tossing it to Nagito. Nagito shrugged the shirt on and as he did, a large scar became visible on the pale expanse of his back. “How’d you get the scar?” Hajime asked absently, running a comb through his hair.

Far too quickly, the previous domestic sort of warmth that had been emanating from Nagito just a moment ago, was gone. His eyes were cold and he didn’t answer, just stood up from the bed and pulled his jeans on without looking Hajime in the eye.  _ Okay, that’s a sore subject. He’s so unpredictable, I don’t know what I can and can’t say.  _ Hajime took a breath and tried to regain control of the situation. “Do you want to get breakfast before practice? We have time.” 

“I would love that Hajime, thank you for the invitation.” And like that, the cheeriness was back. 

They finished getting ready and stopped somewhere to get breakfast before practice. As they sat down, Nagito put both of his hands on the table. “We have something we need to talk about, Hajime.”  _ Oh no. Oh no.  _ “I feel that we could really win this upcoming competition-”  _ Oh thank God. “ _ and we should discuss what we’ll do after that.” A different feeling of guilt flooded Hajime’s conscience. 

“Erm, listen, Nagito-”

“I don’t expect you to want to continue working with me after this competition, Hajime. You don’t need to worry about how to phrase it. I understand completely.”

“I, er, you do?”

“Yes, absolutely. I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest. I work terribly with others and my piano skills are subpar at best. But I was hoping to ask you a favor.” Nagito laced his fingers together. Hajime wondered whether or not he should tell him he was actually very good at piano or just let the self esteem problem sort itself out. He nodded for Nagito to continue. “I hope it’s not too much to ask that we keep in contact.” He took a breath. 

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Hajime breathed a sigh of relief. With how difficult to decipher Nagito was, his “favor” could have been anything under the sun and most of the possibilities Hajime’s mind had conjured for him were overwhelmingly terrifying, so such a simple demand was sweet to hear. Nagito smiled with such potent, genuine happiness that it took Hajime slightly by surprise. 

“Thank you, Hajime.” There was a small pause before Nagito took it upon himself to start up conversation again. “It will be your first competition since the incident with Ms. Nanami, right?”

_ He’s kept that close of tabs on me? _ “Erm, yes. Hey, Nagito… how much exactly do you know about the, uh, ‘incident?’” Hajime raised an eyebrow as he pushed some food around his plate with his fork. Nagito looked almost nervous for a second. 

“Is this a test of some sort, Hajime?” He frowned with startling eye contact. Hajime frowned back in confusion. 

“Huh? No?” 

“Oh. Okay.” Nagito took a breath and looked away, as if he was remembering. “Four years ago, you competed in a national competition with your violin. You and Chiaki shared a practice room with the violinist Korekiyo Shinguji and his accompanist Kirumi Tojo. I was never privy to the exact details of everything, but I know what the papers posted. Someone purposely damaged Korekiyo’s violin before he could perform, so he was out of tune during competition. Chiaki confessed to the cheating and she was banned from the competition circuit. I cannot believe she jeopardized you. You could have been disqualified if anyone had suspected it was you instead of her. Not to mention, she should have had faith in your phenomenal talents as a musician and not resorted to cheating.” Nagito looked bitter. The memories clouded Hajime’s memory with a dark feeling. He took a calming breath and nodded. 

“Chiaki… always had my best intentions in mind. She was an amazing pianist. Amazing person, too. I, er… yeah.” Hajime shrugged. Nagito nodded, absently. 

“Better than me.” It wasn’t a question, just stated as a fact. Hajime would have comforted him if it hadn’t been true. “Chisa talked about her all the time back when I studied under her. Then again, Chiaki had already been removed from the circuit before Chisa chose me.”

“Wait, who was your instructor before Chisa?”

“Please don’t ask me that, Hajime.” Nagito’s voice was careful, only tiny hints of the desperation in his request peeping through. “The past is not something I like to dwell on -especially in your presence, if you don’t mind.”

“Um, no. I guess not.” Hajime blinked. 

 

* * *

 

 

The next week of practices flew by so quickly that Hajime felt like he blinked and was suddenly packing for the competition. He heard his phone go off a few times as he piled shirts into his suitcase and he checked it, expecting to find a text from his parents or maybe Gundham and Souda. Instead, he found numerous texts from Nagito with too many exclamation marks talking about how excited he was. Despite the slight annoyance, Hajime felt his lips lift into a ghost of a smile for a moment before he put his phone away. His phone rang again, but this time it really was his parents. Well, his father. 

“Hey, Dad, I’m kinda busy-”

“Hajime, I have exciting news.” 

“Erm, alright.” He frowned, zipping up his suitcase and pulling it to his hallway. 

“A manager in the company recently retired but there’s talk we’ll bring in a new manager instead of promoting anyone from his team and because of my title, I could easily get you the spot. Even with your… lack of experience.” His dad droned on about the company, but Hajime tuned out, making himself breakfast. “Well? What do you say?” He heard his father’s voice come through the phone again.

“Thanks Dad, but I’m not really interested.”

“You can’t do music forever. It’s… It’s just not a stable career. You’re a smart boy, Hajime. It’s time to grow up and-”

“See you later. Tell Mom hi.” Hajime hung up, finishing his cereal in a considerably worsened mood. He texted Nagito. “Remember to meet at the airport at ten.” He sent the text and called a taxi. On the drive to the airport, he felt himself stewing over the phone call with his father. His dad had never been very happy with him deciding to go into music instead of the family company, but Hajime he would’ve never been happy with a desk job. Didn’t stop his father from relentlessly trying, though. He took a breath and did his best to remove the thoughts of his own family issues from his mind.  _ I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. The competition’s so close I can taste it and we have to get some practicing in before the big day and-  _ His thoughts trailed off as he saw the airport come into his view through the taxi window.  _ I’m so close.  _ We’ _ re so close. Nagito’s probably excited, too. _

 

* * *

 

 

Nagito was indeed excited. He had been at the airport for the last half hour, not trusting himself to not be late and ruin everything for Hajime. He was eating a bagel in the designated waiting area for their flight realizing that  _ very _ soon, Hajime would be appearing. The only emotion stronger than his excitement and anticipation was fear. 

It felt as though terror was eating up his entire soul, consuming him whole. It hadn’t hit him yet that the competition was so quickly approaching them.  _ If I mess up… then it’s all ruined. Everything. My work, Hajime’s practice. Being the subpar, lackluster player I am, I  _ will _ mess up. I’ll have to face myself after that… I’ll have to face Hajime after that.  _ Hajime’s unruly spike of hair came into vision just before him as he rode up the escalator to the second floor of the airport, passport and ticket in hand. Nagito watched his serious face and concentrated posture.  _ It’s better if I don’t tell him I’m worried. Then he’ll have more hope that we’ll win.  _ Nagito waved to Hajime, who walked over and sat down. “You’re already here?”

Nagito nodded. “Would you like my bagel?” He offered his half eaten breakfast. Hajime shook his head. 

“I ate already, but thanks.” Hajime stared off into space for a while. The silence was awkward and tense, just like when they’d first met. Nagito had long since given up on trying to understand lulls in conversation, so he just continued eating and waited for Hajime to talk. Hajime  _ didn’t _ talk, so Nagito took it upon himself to carry their conversation. He rambled on for a while about different competitors and whether or not they should send their director a postcard and finally ended on the subject of a strangely shaped mango he’d seen earlier in the morning when he was buying his bagel. Hajime didn’t add much to the commentary, just watched Nagito talk with an almost amused expression. Nagito wasn’t sure what was amusing.  _ At least my talent of talking about useless things is making me slightly less useless right now. _ Nagito thought to himself. The conversation changed to a book he’d read a few months ago that took place in Paris.

“Have you ever been to France, Hajime?”

“Mhmm.” He nodded.

“Me too. I liked it.”

“Well when we win, you can take a vacation there or something I guess.” Hajime shrugged.  _ “When” we win. Hm. He’s that confident? That’s terrifying. I don’t want it to shock him too much if we lose because of me. Obviously Hajime would never forgive me.  _ Nagito looked down. His hands were shaking just a little. He shoved them in his pockets. Hajime raised an eyebrow at the sudden motion, but didn’t question it. A woman on a microphone announced that they could begin lining up to get their tickets scanned and board the plane. Hajime and Nagito waited patiently in line until it reached Nagito’s turn to show his passport and tickets. He pulled them out of his pockets, hands still trembling and mind still reeling at the thought of letting Hajime’s hope be crushed. Hajime was next and when he was done, they began walking up the hall to the plane’s door. There was another bout of quietness between them. Hajime took a breath to say something but didn’t for a second. Then two. Then three. He let the breath go and made sudden eye contact with Nagito. 

“I can tell you’re nervous. It’s gonna be alright. We’ve done everything we can do at this point, okay?” Hajime’s eyes didn’t move until Nagito nodded. Uncertainty was still clouding Nagito’s mind, but he did feel a little better. Nagito remembered the first time that Hajime had noticed there was something off with him. When he’d sent him home to rest instead of practice. It took a careful eye to notice the times when Nagito started to waltz over the line of being more…  _ erratic _ than usual. Nagito could only think of one other person who’d had that ability and they were… Nagito closed his eyes, reopened them, and continued trailing behind Hajime to their seats. 

The plane ride was not long at all. Despite the brevity of it, however, Nagito found time to fall asleep, head tilting drowsily onto Hajime’s shoulder. At first, Hajime stiffened up, staring at the milk colored mess of hair now perched on his shoulder like a bird’s nest. He relaxed slowly and by the time the plane landed, the weight on his shoulder had started to feel nice. He woke Nagito up, who apologized profusely for falling asleep on Hajime and off they went to find the hotel where the competition was being held. A taxi took them there and they checked in.

“You’ll be in room 420. That’s on the fourth floor and then it will be to your right. If you have any questions you can dial the front desk from your room phone.” The front desk clerk smiled and Nagito smiled back. 

“We’re in, um, room 420?” Hajime blinked, staring at the key being handed to him. The clerk nodded and Nagito just watched with a blank expression.  _ I cannot be the only person who thinks that’s funny. I know it’s immature but come on, just.. Y’know, a little recognition would be nice.  _ They pressed the elevator up button and as they boarded, Hajime caught sight of a few musicians from an orchestra he knew of in the area. Nagito seemed to recognize them, too. 

“Souda invited me to a party of theirs once.” Nagito mumbled as the doors shut. “He said, if I remember correctly, that they had a ‘lit room.’”

“Well, yeah, this time it’ll be us. Room 420.” Hajime chuckled to himself. Nagito raised an eyebrow. “Y’know… ‘cause… 420 is the, er, weed number.” Hajime held back a reaction to Nagito’s completely blank face. 

“Is it?” Nagito seemed genuinely confused.  _ Oh my God he’s a fucking one hundred year old crazy guy stuck in a twenty year old man’s body. Nagito Komaeda cannot be real, I swear to God.  _

It wasn’t until they reached their room that Hajime realized sharing a room with Nagito might not be the most excellent idea he’d ever had.  _ I’m just so used to sharing a room with my accompanist. Chiaki and I were a thing and everytime Souda’s backed me up on mallets, we’ve just shared a room out of habit. But… I’ve already proven I have approximately zero self control when it comes to Nagito. I really hope this doesn’t end poorly.  _

“I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with me, Hajime. I’ve been told I’m dreadful to live with.”

“Well, it’s not really  _ living _ is it? I mean, it’s just a week, at the most.” Hajime flopped down on a bed, savoring the comfortable mattress after his plane ride. “Besides, how bad can you be?”

“Hm.” Nagito hummed a simple response that told Hajime he didn’t want to dwell too long on how terrible he was. Neither did Hajime, so he sat back up. 

“So you said you’ve been to France, do you travel a lot?” He pulled his suitcase onto its stand and unzipped it. Nagito set his suitcase down on the room’s chair and nodded as he spoke. 

“Mhmm. Before my parents passed away, I travelled with them a lot. I don’t travel much anymore besides between my houses.” Nagito shrugged. Hajime felt like Nagito had reached across the room and choked him for a second.  _ That was a lot of information to take in, jeez. So his parents are dead? Both of them, already? He has not just a house, but two? What barely-known pianist has two houses? _

“You have… you have two houses?”

“Yes. One back home and another where I grew up. My parents left them to me.” Nagito unzipped hit suitcase to reveal every item perfectly folded and organized into a particular place. Hajime glanced back down at his suitcase, where he’d just thrown everything and put the top back down. Despite Nagito never seeming to have any aspect of his life put together, Hajime felt like he was constantly being one-upped by the weirder man when it came to basic life things like organizing or getting places on time. 

“Where’d you grow up?”

“About three hours south of where we practice. I don’t visit very often. Memories can be a terrible thing.” Nagito stared at the pattern on the comforter for a brief moment and Hajime considered delving deeper and asking him about what memories could be so painful, but Nagito’s head snapped back up. “I prefer the future, don’t you, Hajime? There’s much more hope there, at least.”

“The future has infinite possibilities and all that.” Hajime nodded. Nagito smiled happily, the strange brokenness gone even faster than it had arrived. 

“I heard Souda will be here.”

“Gundham, too. They’re competing in different categories. Which reminds me, are you gonna compete in solo piano, too? Or just with me?”

“I thought a solo would take time away from practicing with you.” Nagito blinked like it was obvious. Hajime stumbled.

“Uh… You really didn’t have to do that, I trust your abilities, Nagito-”

“I don’t.” It was almost a laugh. “Do you like swimming, Hajime?”

“Er, yeah. Why?”

“I wanted to make sure you enjoyed it before I offered that we could go to the pool in our free time, today.” Nagito smiled, tilting his head in Hajime’s direction. “I’m a dreadful swimmer and I know I’m not the most entertaining person, but it could be fun for us to-”

“Sure, yeah. Let’s go to the pool. Let me grab my swimsuit.” Hajime dug around and found his swim trunks. He started to unbutton his pants and then looked up. Nagito was watching him without even attempting to be discreet. Hajime sighed. “Could you, er, y’know, turn around or look away or something? It’s kinda weird.” He grumbled, chewing on his bottom lip as Nagito just cocked his head. 

“Why? I’ve already seen your-”

“Don’t you have a swimsuit to be changing into, too, Nagito?” Hajime’s words were rushed out of his mouth to avoid hearing the rest of Nagito’s sentence. 

“Ah forgive my idiocy, Hajime, I will change right now-” Nagito continued on but Hajime ignored him, rolling his eyes as he finished pulling his swim trunks on. By the time he’d finished, Nagito had, too. They walked down to the pool and found it empty.  They swam for a little while, which felt especially nice after a plane ride. Once again, Hajime spotted the scar that ran along Nagito’s side and back. It didn’t seem like Nagito lived a very high adrenaline lifestyle or honestly, really even got out much. Hajime had no idea where he could get a scar like that. Maybe a car accident? Nagito had been a considerably bad driver the one time he’d driven Hajime home. 

“You know, there’s a lot I don’t know about you.” Hajime realized aloud as he climbed out of the pool and sat on the edge, watching Nagito swim over. The air felt cold suddenly.  _ It must be because I’m out of the pool.  _ But when Nagito resurfaced above the water with a newly hostile expression, Hajime realized that wasn’t the case at all. 

“I distinctly remember asking you  _ not _ to ask me about my past. Or, oh, apologies, my memory is atrocious so maybe I’m forgetting.” His tone was icy as he climbed out of the pool and grabbed a towel from the bin near the door. Hajime let out an audible sigh. 

“You can’t just get edgy every time I try to learn anything about you. How are we supposed to work together if I’m not even allowed to know who you are?”

“You  _ do _ know who I am.” Nagito’s mouth was set in a deep scowl. He looked almost bored with the conversation, like his usual interest in Hajime had evaporated into thin air. “We work together every day.”

“But I don’t know  _ anything _ about you before the day Shuichi introduced us. I don’t know where- uh, where you went to college. Or what you studied. Or even where you live. You’re like a… a ghost, Nagito.” Hajime felt himself scratching the skin on his bare leg. A nervous tic. 

“You know everything about me that matters. My past isn’t who I am.” Nagito shook a towel through his hair and it was quickly back to its usual cotton candy-like mess. Normally, Hajime would’ve found this amusing, maybe even funny, but his emotions were on a darker path at the moment. 

“That’s fair, but…” He took a breath.  _ I don’t know how to put this in words. I really don’t.  _ “You can’t… You can’t only let me see the parts of you that you’re okay showing. We’re supposed to be a team and I feel like you’ve already seen every side of me and I barely know who you are.” Hajime knew his words weren’t getting through to Nagito. The blank look on his face told him that it was a wall, blocking any of what he was trying to get across from reaching his weird little brain. 

“Well, it’s not as if-”

“I  _ want _ to know who you are.” Hajime interrupted Nagito. It took a second for the words to process in Nagito’s mind, but somehow they made it past his emotional barricade, and when they did, it was plain on his face. Nagito blinked, eyes wide.

“What?” He mumbled, suddenly much quieter. As per usual, his hostility managed to vanish within a split second.  _ So many ups and downs, Jesus Christ. _ Hajime repeated himself. Nagito nodded with a hollow stare. “Oh.” He blinked again, staring down at the tile floor. Sudden recognition and relief flooded his expression and he looked back up at Hajime. “Oh, I get it now, Hajime! To improve our playing together! You’ll know how to critique me better if you know my background.” He looked happy with the conclusion he’d reached. 

_ Well, I meant just wanting to know you in general, but alright Nagito. Do your thing.  _ Hajime considered telling him that he genuinely just wanted to know more about him, but something told him it might break Nagito. He seemed much more relieved thinking Hajime caring was just part of their working together.  _ Maybe he has intimacy issues, like he’s scared of getting close to people. It would explain his lack of friends and social graces. Who knows? I guess it’s not really my job to sort it- actually wait. Y’know, it kinda is. He is my accompanist. Hell, I’ve seen people who treat their accompanists like family when they’re working together. _ “I’m going back to the room.” Hajime frowned and stood up, starting towards the door. Nagito followed behind, towel drying his hair as he went. 

 

* * *

 

 

That night, Hajime was brushing his teeth, an idea occurred to him. He leaned out of the bathroom to spot Nagito lounging on one of the beds, a thick book in his hands. “Canyewatleesht-”

“Hajime, I’m having some difficulty understanding-”

Hajime took the toothbrush out of his mouth and tried again. “Can you at least tell me when you started playing piano?”

Nagito paused for a moment, like he was thinking. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. He frowned. “I really don’t know.” He looked away. “I got my first official lesson when I was eight or nine, but I’d… I had been playing before that, too.” 

“It was the same with me. My mom’s a music teacher, though. So it was kind of expected.” Hajime spat out his toothpaste into the sink and walked back into their room. “It’s sort of ironic. My parents got me into music and now that’s it’s my life, they don’t like it, anymore.” Hajime sat on his own bed. Nagito put the book down. 

“They don’t approve of music?”

“Er, it’s complicated. I think they’d prefer if it was a hobby.”

“Ah. My parents didn’t care much about my career. We had enough money in the family that I didn’t need to worry about it. Although I think if they were alive they wouldn’t be very interested in it.” Nagito let out a sound that could have been a laugh. 

“Were you not close with them?” 

“Ah, forgive me, Hajime. I’ve said too much.” Nagito picked his book back up and was suddenly suspiciously involved in reading it. Hajime sighed and pulled out his phone, flipping through social media mindlessly, hearing a page turn every once and awhile. 

“Are you still nervous about the competition?” Hajime asked after what he felt like was an appropriately long break. Nagito looked up from his book again, but didn’t put it down this time. 

“Much less so thanks to your kind words, Hajime!” He smiled cheerfully. Too cheerfully. 

“You don’t have to boost my ego, Nagito.”

“Hm.” Was all he got in response and Nagito turning back to his book. He looked back to his phone and could feel Nagito’s eyes trail from the pages to watching Hajime. He considered reciprocating the eye contact or calling Nagito out for staring, but a strange, little part of him wanted to see what Nagito would do. He  _ knew _ Nagito had some sort of strange infatuation with him. What he wasn’t sure of was whether or not that infatuation was just based on him as a musician or on him as a person. Or if that infatuation ran deeper than just that. Fascination. Nagito’s eyes were warm when he watched Hajime. With the usual ups and downs in Nagito’s emotional range (which was almost  _ too _ deep, Hajime found himself thinking), it wasn’t unusual to see some semblance of warmth in them, but the calmness in them was. Hajime really wished he could get a look in Nagito’s head. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see everything crawling around in there, but he would like to at least see what Nagito Komaeda thought of him.  _ Does that make me self-centered? _

 

* * *

 

 

“Hajime?” Hajime could vaguely tell someone was standing over him. He rolled over. 

“Wanna sleep. Mm. Go to bed, Nagito.” He mumbled. Nagito leaned farther over him. 

“We’re going to miss the continental breakfast, Hajime. I can grab you something and bring it to the room if you’d like.” Through his half open eyes, Hajime could see Nagito was doing something with his hands.

“What are you doing?” He sighed rubbing his eyes to try and get rid of the sleep in them. Nagito stopped and looked down.

“Changing?” Confusion was clear in his voice. Hajime finally opened his eyes all the way to see Nagito doing the buttons on his shirt. Hajime sat up a little.

“You can do buttons with one hand?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Nagito just nodded, pulling the last button through its loop. “I sprained my wrist once as a kid. I played violin on it and made it worse so I had to wear a brace for a month or so. Even then, I couldn’t do that.” Hajime stretched, sauntering over to his suitcase to look for something to put on. 

“Which wrist did you hurt?”

“Uh, lemme think.” Hajime squinted, trying to remember. “It was my left hand.”

“As a violinist, your left hand is probably more dextrous.” Nagito shook out his hand and stared at it. “I’m actually ambidextrous. It is one of the only useful things about me.” He laughed.  _ Ambidextrous? He’s never mentioned it before. I suppose it would definitely help with piano. Y’know, thinking about it… I kinda wish I was ambidextrous.  _ Hajime’s eyes flitted to Nagito’s pale hands as they fell down to rest at his sides from his collar. 

“You have other useful things about you, Nagito.” Hajime sighed. Nagito froze up. 

“Ah hah.” He took a breath. “Gundham and Souda are arriving today.” Nagito tried to change the topic while Hajime pushed himself up from the bed and walked over to his suitcase, searching for a shirt amongst his packed chaos. Hajime pulled his shirt off but before he could put on the new one, he felt a burning gaze on him. He glanced behind himself to see Nagito watching him with a wide-eyed stare. 

“Um, is something wrong?” Hajime glanced down but didn’t see terrifying rash or anything else that would cause Nagito to stare at his chest. Nagito blabbered a dismissive response and looked away. Hajime shrugged and pulled his shirt on. 

They met with Gundham and Souda and had lunch at the restaurant connected to the hotel. They were incidentally only stay a few rooms down from them. They talked about the competition and spent some time together. The next day was the competition, so they didn’t have too long together because the need to practice was looming over them. 

The next morning, Hajime woke up in a panic.  _ Oh my God, it’s today. Fucking today. Everything I’ve worked for.  _ He turned on his side to see Nagito still asleep in his own bed.  _ Everything  _ we’ve _ worked for. _ He corrected in his mind. Like it or not, Nagito had worked just as hard as he had. For the first time since they’d started preparing, Hajime felt the terrible feeling of nerves crawl through his skin. He sat up and stretched, feeling the hotel sheets crinkle beneath him. Hajime turned on his side to look at Nagito on the other side of the room. He was curled into a ball under the blankets. He murmured something in his sleep in an urgent tone. Nagito twitched, his frame shaking slightly. Hajime sat up, watching with a closer eye, confusion masking the nerves he’d felt just slightly. “Nagito?” He said quietly, but got no response from the other man. There was another twitch. Hajime sat up in the bed and let his legs fall over the side of the bed, standing up and stretching again. He took a step towards Nagito’s bed and was surprised to see almost unnoticeable tear tracks trailing down Nagito’s cheeks.  _ Oh my God. Is he okay? _ Hajime leaned forward. “Nagito?” Louder, firmer. He tapped Nagito’s shoulder and he jolted awake, jumping back on the bed. 

“Junko?” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, it’s you. Good morning, Hajime.” Nagito sighed in relief, running a hand through his hair. As he rubbed his hand over his face, he felt the wetness on his cheeks and pulled his hand away in surprise. “A-Apologies, Hajime. I must have had a-”

“‘Nightmare.’ Yeah I know. Are you okay?” Hajime sat on the edge of Nagito’s bed. He locked eyes with Nagito and saw his skin flush just slightly. 

“Yes. While I am certainly honored you would waste your time in worrying about me, there is definitely no need.” Nagito assured him with a cheerful smile. 

“Erm, alright. Can I ask who Junko is?”

Nagito just stared at him for a second. “Hm. We should practice a few times before we get our room assignments for the competition.” Nagito scooted off the bed and stood up next to Hajime. Just like that, the feeling of panic was surging through his bones again. They dressed quickly and Hajime rushed downstairs to find a place to practice and they practiced and practiced until Nagito of all people had to remind Hajime that they’d already learned as much as they could. Practicing the day of the competition wasn’t going to make any difference this late in the game. As much as Hajime hated to admit that he was right, he knew Nagito was speaking the truth. 

The competition was set up so that each division was assigned to a specific room. The musicians would play for the audience, judges, and other musicians and receive a score. At the end of the competition, the winner of each category would be awarded their titles. Nagito and Hajime were in a room near the lobby. It was one of the more crowded divisions, with the audience and competitor slots both being completely full. “Crowded means more difficult.” Hajime grumbled, looking over the program as he ate breakfast with the other three. 

“If anyone is capable of winning, it’s you, Hajime.” Nagito took a sip of his juice. Despite the positive affirmations of the sentence, it struck even more fear into Hajime’s mind about the competition. 

“But what if I don’t?” Hajime put down his fork. “What if I fuck everything up?”

“Nagito’s right. You’re gonna rock it, Hajime.” Souda clapped him on the back. 

“The spirits I’ve connected with today have given me a ‘good feeling’ about this competition.” Gundham nodded in agreement. Hajime thanked them, but he wasn’t feeling any better about it.  _ I’m lucky my hands don’t shake when I’m nervous, or we’d be in a world of hurt right now.  _

They gathered their instruments from their rooms and went their separate ways to prepare. They’d practiced. They’d eaten. There was nothing left to do but wait and worry. And waiting and worrying was precisely what Hajime was bad at. He glanced down at his clock.  _ Thirty minutes until the competition.  _ “Nagito, we should start heading down.” Hajime was fumbling around his violin case, double checking he had everything he needed. Nagito nodded. They walked to the elevator and Nagito pressed the down button. With each passing floor, Hajime could feel his blood grown colder. By the time they reached the lobby, Hajime could feel himself coming undone. “We, uh, we should find the room. Do you have the room number?”

“Banquet room number four-”

“Okay, let’s go.” Hajime was trying to cover his nerves with a sudden need to be punctual. Nagito watched him fidget with his violin case and read the room number of the room they were closest to. 

“Is everything okay, Hajime?” Nagito was watching him with an almost fascinated look. Hajime hesitated. 

“Erm. Yep. Yeah. All good.” Hajime was staring up and down the hallway. “Here, look, Banquet Room number four. Right here.” He pointed to the sign and pushed through the door. He heard Nagito say something, but didn’t process it. “Oh.” He mumbled when he walked into the room. “This is not a banquet room.” 

“I-I think you’re looking for the room next door. This is a storage room.” Nagito looked around at some of the boxes. “It’s a little dirty in here.” His gaze turned disdainful. Hajime let out a shaky sigh. “Hajime?” Nagito turned to look at him. 

“I-I’m really off my game today.” Hajime mumbled. “I, uh, I know I should be better right now, I just… I’m nervous. And it’s dumb, I know. But-”

“Hajime.” Nagito grabbed both his wrists with a surprising strength. His eyes found Hajime’s with a startling intensity. They were so close, Hajime could see the flecks of green and gray in his eyes. “It’s going to be okay. Can’t you see? You’re going to do so well.” Nagito sounded almost a little frenzied, but Hajime was too distracted with the sudden contact. “Even if we don’t win… you’re the most amazing musician I’ve ever met.”

_ He’s crazy. He’s just saying that because he’s obsessed with you. It doesn’t mean anything _ . Hajime’s brain was trying to tell him, but he couldn’t hear it. “I, uh, r-really?” Hajime blinked. Nagito nodded with such certainty and passion that Hajime stopped himself from taking a step back. He swallowed nervously. He could see his watch because of the way Nagito was holding his wrist and he sucked in a breath. “We only have two minutes. We should go.” He shook his hands free from Nagito’s grasp and started towards the door. He stopped when he reached it and turned around for a second. “Nagito- um, thank you. That helped a lot, actually.” He nodded. Nagito smiled a wide, genuine smile. 

They left the storage room and Hajime realized the plaque for the room was just above the plaque for the storage center, which made him feel less dumb about his mistake. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. There were already dozens and dozens of people inside, waiting. To Hajime, it felt like millions. They found their seats in the competitor’s section and stuck Hajime’s violin under their chairs. They were fourteenth on the list of forty competitors. The first competitors to play were talented, no doubt, but Hajime wasn’t too worried about them. Or the next few. By the time the thirteenth competitor was getting to the stage, Hajime was feeling pretty good. There were a few definite challenges sprinkled in the competitor list, but Hajime was feeling confident. He took a relieved breath. The thirteenth competitors took the stage, but he was staring down at his program, trying to figure out which of the newcomers’ names he didn’t recognize. “What an interesting turn of events.” Nagito mumbled in a strange tone. Hajime looked up. Froze. 

Kirumi Tojo was taking her seat at the piano bench as Korekiyo Shinguji lifted his violin to his neck. Hajime hadn’t seen them since the incident with Chiaki. When Korekiyo’s violin had been tampered with. They played a piece Hajime had ironically considered for the competition, himself. They finished playing and Hajime had to admit they were good. They’d improved greatly since the last time he’d heard them play. He’d gone out of his way not to keep tabs on them, the memories of Chiaki too strong for him to do it in a good state of mind. Nagito’s gaze was heavy on him for the entire performance, but he put all his effort into acting indifferent. And soon after, the announcer’s voice carried through the room. “Next we have competitors number fourteen, Hajime Hinata and Nagito Komaeda. They will be performing Vivaldi’s Violin Concert in A minor.” 

They took the stage. Hajime went through the motions he’d rehearsed in his head since he was a child. _ Walk slowly, smile -but not too much.  _ He sat down and heard the piano bench move as Nagito sat on it. He glanced up to the panel of three judges. One on the far side nodded to him. He glanced over to Nagito. Nagito brushed some of his wild hair out of his eyes to make eye contact with Hajime. He nodded once. He counted off silently and then they were off. Hajime could feel the music lifting his soul and moving him. His breathing was in time with the music and he could tell from the slight lift in Nagito’s playing, that he was in a trance, too. Hajime didn’t want to jinx it, but he was sure that it was their best run through of the piece.  _ If we don’t win with this, then we never deserved to win. But Nagito’s right. This was never about just winning.  _

The piece finished and they stood and bowed. Hajime felt exhilarated. He made eye contact with Nagito as they left the stage and he felt a surge of pride in seeing the excited look on Nagito’s face as he helped him down the stage’s back stairs. They found their way back to their seats and watched the rest of the performances. The adrenaline was wearing off, but Hajime still felt ecstatic as he watched the others play.  _ No matter how we did, we played our best and y’know what? Screw it, I’m happy with the way we performed.  _ When everyone was finished, the audience and other competitors were dismissed so the judges could finish scoring and prepare the medals for the winners. 

Nagito and Hajime waited just a bit aways, in the lobby. Nagito leaned against a wall, watching Hajime with a serene look. “You played amazingly well, Hajime.”

“So did you. We really did well out there.” Hajime smiled. 

“Hajime?” Nagito asked and Hajime nodded. “Are you familiar with the work of Daniel Goleman?”

“Can’t say I am.” Hajime shook his head. The happiness from their performance was giving him more patience with Nagito’s rambles. 

“He writes books about the brain. You’ve probably read a few without even knowing. But he talks about the idea of flow-”

“‘Flow?’”

“It’s a neurophenomena that happens when something is challenging, but not so difficult that it’s pointless. And when you combine that with someone who is gifted in some way, it creates ‘flow.’ They become so completely engrossed in what they’re doing that they become it. That’s what you’ve reminded me of since the first time I saw you play.” Nagito grinned. “They say people who have mastered flow look beautiful when they do what they’re gifted at and it’s true.”

“Thanks, Nagito.” Hajime smiled at him. He hesitated, taking a breath.  _ I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, I’m just in a good mood.  _ But he ignored hi voice of reason,  _ I’ve been doing that a lot, actually.  _ “Hey, um, would you be interested in working together after this competition? Like, um, as my accompanist?” Hajime asked, carefully watching Nagito’s reaction. His eyes widened and sparkled. 

“I’d… I’d love to, Hajime. I’m honored you’d want to work with a terrible-”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Drop the ‘I’m so terrible’ all the time.” Hajime laughed a little. Nagito grinned. 

“The only thing more atrocious than my confidence is my self control, Hajime. I wouldn’t bet too much money on me stopping.” He looked down. Someone emerged from the banquet room and everyone began to shuffle back inside. Hajime and Nagito found their seats. The announcer was back on the stage. 

“Welcome back everyone, thank you for the wait. We want to thank everyone for performing and attending and without further ado- I will begin announcing winners. We had three duos receive excellent ratings tonight and they will be announce in ascending order of their score. In third place, we have…” Hajime watched at the third place duo took the stage and clapped along with everyone else. Nagito murmured something to Hajime about their performance, but it had been during the first few when Hajime had been too nervous to think clearly and listen. “For our second duo, we have Korekiyo Shinguji and Kirumi Tojo.” The announcer presented them with silver medals as they took the stage.  _ So we got first or nothing.  _ Hajime’s blood was pounding in his ears, ice cold and keeping him alert. He sent a glance to Nagito, who was watching with wild and excited eyes.  _ Well he definitely thinks we have a chance.  _ “And finally, in first place, with the best scores tonight, we have-”

Hajime sucked in a breath and held it. He could feel time slow down and could see every other hopeful musician in the room hold their own breath. 

“Hajime Hinata and Nagito Komaeda.”

For one single moment, everything went silent. The pounding in his ears stopped. The applause in the room was silent. The only things Hajime could feel in the room were Nagito and himself. He stood up slowly, looking to his right and seeing Nagito rise, as well. He felt completely numb as he started towards the stage and walked up the stairs. He accepted the award for them and as they stood on the stage a moment, he looked over to see Nagito’s face. He was staring into the crowd, the biggest smile Hajime had ever seen on him adorning his face. There was something about seeing Nagito smile that was so pure and genuine. It was rare to see a smile on him that wasn’t the product of something someone  _ shouldn’t _ be smiling about or some self-deprecating attempt at a joke. Rare to see a smile that looked so innocent. 

When the moment was over, they walked back down the stairs and dispersed like all the others into the rest of the hotel. They went back to their room to put away Hajime’s violin. Nagito watched Hajime put the case on his bed and shrug off his suit jacket. He raised a hand and put it back down again. He opened his mouth to say something but decided that that, too, was a bad idea. It wasn’t until Hajime turned back around with a smile that Nagito was able to gather the courage he needed. “Hajime-”

“Dude, that was awesome. Like super, super fucking awesome. I am so proud of us -of you.” Hajime’s face was bright and his eyes even brighter. 

“Hajime, I think I should tell you something-”

There was a sudden, loud noise that rang through the room and both men jumped slightly. Hajime patted his pockets until he found his phone and pulled it out, answering. “Gundham?” He tilted his head. “Oh, you heard already? Yeah…. Yeah… That’d be great. For sure. We’ll see you guys there.” Hajime hung up the phone. He looked back up at Nagito. “Gundham and Souda already heard about our win. They’re heading towards some cool restaurant downtown to get a table before the dinner rush. They want us to meet them there.”

“You go ahead, Hajime. I need to check some things, first.” Nagito did his best to make a convincing face. Hajime seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he nodded slowly, waving a quick goodbye to Nagito. 

“I’ll see you there, Nagito.” He smiled and closed the door behind him. Nagito watched him leave and then retreated to the bathroom. He stared into the mirror. He knew the emotion he was going to find in his eyes but it was still almost shocking to see it. Fear. Absolute, genuine, raw terror.  _ Something terrible is going to happen.  _ Nagito watched his own eyes widen.  _ If I’m this happy, something bad is going to happen.  _


	2. Radius and Ulna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I will be leaving the country for a month tomorrow, so I wanted to get this chapter posted. I apologize for the shorter length and any mistakes I might not have caught. I will be writing and publishing while I'm gone, but it won't be as frequent because I'm not sure when I will and won't have internet.   
> Secondly, this is just a warning I wanted to put at the beginning of this chapter. This chapter has a much different and darker tone than the last one and so I don't want anyone to be alarmed when the story suddenly shifts a bit in direction. There will also be mentions of injury and mild gore. Thank you for reading and have a nice day!

Hajime met up with Souda and Gundham at a nearby restaurant. He felt like a million bucks when he sat down to the congratulations from both of them. “Thank you guys. It means a lot.” He smiled and took his seat. 

“Where’s Komaeda? Isn’t he coming?” Souda looked around. Hajime shrugged. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. He just said he had to check something.” Hajime waved it off and ordered some drinks. “It was weird seeing Korekiyo and Kirumi.”

“They will be displeased with losing.” Gundham frowned, ordering a drink that was way too strong for Hajime, even on a celebration night. “Although I know that if they are able to examine this competition on the level of a spirit, they will realize-”

“That you just did better than ‘em. Not a big deal.” Souda shook his head vigorously. “Besides, they can’t still be mad about what happened-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Hajime asked in an almost begging tone. Souda opened his mouth to say more, but shut up with a pointed look from Gundham. “I did something.”

“Hm?” Gundham nodded him on. Hajime took a breath.

“I told Nagito that I’d like to keep working with him after the competition.” Hajime looked up at the ceiling. “It was sort of last minute, but I-I… I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have. But I don’t feel bad about it. I really don’t.” Hajime nodded and then quickly thanked his waiter as they brought out his drink. Nagito emerged suddenly at the entrance to the restaurant. He rushed over to the table, visibly out of breath. 

“Hello! I apologize for my tardiness, I got caught up with something at the hotel and-”

“It’s fine, Nagito.” Hajime shook his head. “We already ordered drinks, but-”

“I’ll order myself something! From the bar!” Nagito waved his hands and started towards the bar. 

“Is Komaeda acting, um, I dunno… weird?” Souda raised an eyebrow watching Nagito wander over to the bar. Hajime let out a short laugh.

“No. He’s usually like that.” Hajime followed Souda’s gaze. “It’s not like our industry’s not already full of crazies already.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “Remember that viola player who blackmailed her director with a sex tape a few years back?”

“I knew a percussionist who knew another percussionist who got caught snorting coke halfway through a concert. Apparently that guy was even weirder than Komaeda. Then again, er, he  _ was _ on cocaine…” Souda trailed off. 

“I remember the stories about that one pianist who… let a darker entity take over her and killed two people.” Gundham shuddered, as if reliving the event himself. Nagito came back to the table with his own drink. “Well, my devas of destruction and I congratulate you both.” Gundham raised his own glass in a toast. Nagito smiled, locking eyes with Hajime as he raised his glass. 

 

\---

 

Since neither of them had any competitions left, Hajime and Nagito were able to take the next flight home after the competition. It was surprisingly difficult going their separate ways when the flight landed. But now that the adrenaline and excitement was just starting to wear off, it would be good to get a break from each other.  _ Or at least I think so _ , Hajime figured in his mind. After a few days, when everyone else returned from the competition, Shuichi even organized a congratulations party. Hajime got a call earlier in the day from Nagito, himself. “Er, hello? Nagito?”

“Hajime?”

“Yeah?”

“This is rather embarrassing and I apologize beforehand, but erm… I am in the process of moving some furniture around and-” There was a loud bang on his side of the phone.  _ That cannot be good. _ Hajime decided. “Well, being as physically unfit as I am-”

“You want me to help?” Hajime frowned to hide his chuckle into the phone. There was a beat. 

“I would never be so presumptuous to ask, but Hajime were to offer, it would be most appreciated.” Nagito said in a cheery voice. Hajime sighed. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Where do you live? Text me the address.” Hajime listened as Nagito listed off his address, voice lilting at each number. He wrote it down and said a quick goodbye before hanging up and typing it into his map app.  _ I’ve never been to Nagito’s house.  _ Hajime realized as he looked for his keys.  _ Actually, I don’t think he’s ever really asked me for a favor, before. Maybe it’s a sign we’re getting closer? Is that good? Bad? _

Hajime followed his GPS to Nagito’s address and parked in front of the driveway. The house was medium sized, but nice, with a large garden out front. He knocked on the door and before he could even finish, Nagito had pulled it open. “Hajime! You really came!”

“Er, yeah. I said I would. Now listen, Nagito-” Hajime followed Nagito inside. “I’m not exactly a mover, either. So, I can help, but- oh  _ wow _ . This is your house?” Hajime finally started looking around as he talked. The house was very Nagito. There were countless paintings on the walls and despite the cluttered mess of a house, it seemed overly organized. 

“Excuse the mess. Here’s the living room, I’m just trying to move this sofa.” Nagito showed Hajime through the first room in the hall. A couch was pulled halfway from the wall at a diagonal angle. “This was my sorry attempt at pushing it against the wall.” Nagito laughed nervously. Hajime scratched his neck, staring at it. 

“Alright. Give me a hand. You take that side.” He pointed to the opposite side of the couch and Nagito rushed over to it, grabbing the base of the couch. “On three we’ll push towards the wall, okay? One, two,  _ three _ .” Hajime helped Nagito push the couch against the wall. There were a few miscellaneous shelves Nagito needed help with, but they weren’t nearly as difficult as Hajime had expected them to be. They finished fairly quickly and Hajime sat down in the couch he’d helped Nagito move. 

“Do you want something to drink Hajime?” Nagito tilted his head. “I can make tea.”

“Er, sure. Why not?” Hajime wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow Nagito to his kitchen, but he did, anyway. He watched Nagito pour some water into his kettle and put it on the stove. Nagito opened a drawer to show his tea selection. “Chamomile.” Hajime pointed to the box and Nagito removed a tea bag from it. “Ah, are you a big tea drinker?” He gestured the wide selection of teas. Nagito nodded excitedly. 

“I love tea.” The kettle started to boil and he took it off the heat, pouring the boiling water into two cups and dropping the tea bags in them. “I read a book once, on survival psychology. Did you know that if you’re ever put in a situation that is psychologically or physically disturbing, you’re supposed to brew a cup of tea?”

“Why’s that?” Hajime spooned some sugar into his mug. Nagito smiled a little. 

“It’s a habitual activity, like watching tv or buying groceries. It makes your mind feel as if life is normal, even if just for a moment. And then, you have the chance to regain your wits at least for that long. It would work especially well for me because of how often I drink it.” Nagito laughed and took a sip of his tea. 

“I’ll keep that in mind for if zombies ever invade or something.” Hajime raised an eyebrow, drinking some of his own tea. He sat up a little bit. “So, you have a piano?” Hajimed asked and Nagito nodded, the ghost of a smile lighting his lips. 

“Here.” He started walking away and Hajime picked up his tea, following. “This is my music room. This was the second piano I ever had. A 1921 Steinway. I had her painted white.” Nagito put his tea down on a side table and put a hand on the piano. “She’s beautiful.”

“I don’t know any more about pianos than the next guy, but I can tell that she’s pretty.” Hajime looked over the piano. Nagito nodded.

“I like her much more than the piano at my other house. It was my first piano, so there are memories, but… At least my less than stellar piano skills can be played on an attractive piano here.”

“Nagito… You do realize we  _ did _ win a national competition just a few days ago? Meaning, you’re a nationally ranked pianist. You hardly suck.” Hajime raised an eyebrow. Nagito’s eyes went wide for just a second and then he rasped a short laugh. 

“Forgive my poor memory.” He shook his head and sat down at the piano bench. “Any requests?” He asked in an almost joking voice. Hajime just laughed in response. 

“Y’know, I think this is the best we’ve got on.” Hajime realized out loud, not fully noticing he’d vocalized his thoughts until Nagito looked up at him with a serious expression. 

“I’ve been trying very hard, Hajime. Trying to get better at getting along with you. I think it will make our playing better and also… I hope you don’t mind that I’d enjoy it on a personal level.” Nagito looked away. “I’ve read that people are more likely to find you as pleasant company if they’ve performed a favor for you. So I asked you here.” Nagito mumbled. Hajime resisted the urge to tell Nagito that not every interaction had to be treated like a mathematics problem.  _ I wonder why he needs to pick apart everything.  _

 

\---

 

A few days passed and Shuichi’s party was fast approaching. Hajime agreed to breakfast with Nagito the day of the party. They were hanging out more since the competition and steadily growing closer, but Hajime still felt as though there were a lot of parts of Nagito he didn’t get the chance to see. Parts of Nagito he didn’t think he’d ever get the chance to see, fully. He got a call from Souda on his way to pick up Nagito. “Hey Souda.” Hajime tucked the phone on top of shoulder as he drove. 

“You ready for tonight? Everyone’s gonna be there.” Souda’s excitement was clear in his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m psyched.” Hajime was watching the upcoming traffic, not really paying attention. 

“Sonia’s gonna be there. Gundham told me that.”

“I thought her and Gundham were kind of-”

“No! I mean… I don’t think so.” Souda was audibly frowning. “Hey, so what are you doing?”

“Uhhh, driving to pick up Nagito.” Hajime merged into the traffic and shifted the phone up on his shoulders. Souda said goodbye and Hajime got to Nagito’s house. Nagito emerged from his house and walked out to Hajime’s car. “Hey, Nagito.” He said as the other man got into the car. Nagito waved with a pleasant smile. 

“Good morning, Hajime. Are you excited for the party?”

“Yeah, you?”

“It’s the first party I’ve been formally invited to since before my parents died. I’m ecstatic.” Nagito nodded eagerly.  _ Wait, shit, really? When did his parents die? That’s like, really sad.  _ “It’s nice for my work on piano to finally pay off.”

“Yeah, winning was big-”

“I meant being able to work with you.” Nagito interrupted, eyes meeting Hajime’s with an intense gaze. Hajime stopped. Blinked. 

“Oh.” He mumbled, turning his attention back to the road to avoid whatever awkward conversation would follow that exchange. The silence in the car was thick and Hajime could feel a strange tension between him and Nagito that he’d never felt, before.  _ Maybe it’s because we’re growing closer? Just a byproduct of that.  _ Hajime was wondering whether or not he should try to start some small talk or if he should leave the silence be, when words slipped from his mouth before he could do anything to stop them. “We never talked about what happened.”

Nagito seemed surprised he’d brought it up, straightening up in his seat next to Hajime’s. “I, ah, I believed that was part of the deal, wasn’t it? I wasn’t supposed to discuss it?” Nagito paused, staring out the window. “Did I misunderstand?”

“No, I mean, no. It’s just…” Hajime took an unsteady breath. “No you’re right. I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“And what page is that?”

“I… I-I don’t know.” Hajime mumbled in response. He pulled into the restaurant where’d they’d gone to lunch for the first time together and got out of the car. Him and Nagito found a table and sat down, ordering some breakfast. “So, um, since we’re going to continue playing together, er, what would you like to do from here on out? I mean, we’ll play in the main orchestra, but as far as duets, we have things to decide.”

“And a long time to make those decisions.” Nagito smiled serenely. “Although, I have been working on some solo pieces, I hope you don’t mind.” Nagito looked up with shining eyes at Hajime, like he was expecting to be shot down. Hajime just shook his head dismissively and Nagito perked up. “Well, I found a charming Irish song with this very exciting rhythm. I’ll play you a little recording if you want. Of course, my rendition won’t be nearly as lovely, but…” Nagito pulled his phone out and played a short recording for Hajime. It was a fast paced song with a strange, swinging rhythm that confused him and intrigued him at the same time. It was definitely a song where Nagito’s jazz background would come in handy. “I haven’t done any solo work since we began working together, hopefully I have not become incapable of playing melody!” 

“We haven’t been playing together that long, Nagito.” Hajime sighed.  “It sounds beautiful, though. I think if anyone can pull it off, it’s you. You’re good with rhythm stuff, right? Souda mentioned it once, I think.” 

“Souda really said that?” Nagito asked, leaning forward in his seat with a surprised look. 

“Uh, yeah. I agree with him. Rhythm’s definitely your strong suit.”

“I’m honored you would think I even have a strong suit, Hajime. Thank you.” Nagito smiled warmly, looking down at the table like he was flustered. “I, erm, I feel very comfortable with rhythm. It allows me to stay in the background and observe, but always be there. I love observing others. Seeing how they work. In my opinion, meager as it is, being a rhythm player and accompanist is the best way to do that in music.” Nagito’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Ah! Sorry, I’m rambling, I’ll stop now.” He scratched at one of his wrists. “Oh! Your calluses, Hajime!” Nagito reached across the table and took one of Hajime’s hands. Hajime’s mind quickly flashed back to the first time they’d discussed calluses  _ and where that conversation led.  _

“Oh, it’s just from all the extra practicing I did for the competition. The skin will clear up in a few days.” Hajime shrugged, looking to where Nagito’s eyes were fixed on his broken skin. “You’re observant.”

“Hardly. I’m just a speck who enjoys watching those greater than it.”

“I thought you said you were going to calm it down with all of this stuff.”

“What? The self-deprecation? The honesty? Ah, should I censor myself to make you more comfortable, Hajime? Or would that also be too self-destructive?” Nagito’s tone was icy and his eyes were narrowed with a distinct maliciousness lurking within them, like a snake ready to strike. Hajime blinked in surprise. 

“U-Um… Okay.” Hajime frowned. “How am I even supposed to respond to that, Nagito? What do you want me to say?”

“That’s what I should ask you, Hajime. Who do you want me to be?” Nagito’s voice was quiet, rushed out in a strange tone that Hajime didn’t think he would understand even if he  _ wanted _ to put effort into picking it apart. He didn’t answer Nagito, just took a sip of water and looked away, purposely avoiding eye contact. There was a tense silence. Somewhere in the restaurant, someone dropped a glass and the noise seemed to shake Nagito back to reality. He shrunk down, cold confidence gone in the blink of an eye. “I-I apologize, Hajime. I didn't mean to turn so hostile, I…” Nagito let out a short laugh that made it painfully obvious how nervous he was. “I’ve been told I’m rather sinusoidal.”

“Er,  _ what _ ?” Between the sudden shift in mood and its reversion combined with terms he hadn’t heard since high school, Hajime felt like he was doing a handstand at the table. 

“Did you every study sine waves in school?”

“Yeah, I took AP Calc in high school so I wouldn’t have to take any math in college.”

“You didn’t have to take more than a year of math for college?”

“Nagito, I was a music major.”

“Oh. Right. Well, anyway, they go up and down to extremes and they never end. It’s sort of like that, I think.” Nagito took a breath with a mildly worried expression. “I don’t mean to lash out, Hajime. I just sometimes feel as though I can’t control it. I don’t know how to… connect with others. That’s why I need music.” Nagito shifted his gaze away. “It’s not just a hobby or a career, I… I  _ need _ music, Hajime. Music is the only way I’ve found where I can convey what I’m trying to say to other people. It’s a ridiculous thing I’m sure.” 

“It’s really not. I used to feel the same way, actually.” Hajime met Nagito’s gaze. They ate the rest of breakfast with easier conversation and Hajime dropped Nagito off at his house on his way home. “I’ll see you at the party tonight.” Hajime smiled as Nagito got out of his car. Nagito turned back around for a moment, smile easy and eyes bright. 

“Can’t wait, Hajime.” Nagito waved goodbye. 

 

\---

 

Hajime pulled into the parking lot of the music building that night. As he walked in, he happened to run into Shuichi on the way in. “Oh, Shuichi-”

“Hi, Hajime.” Shuichi smiled. “Congratulations.” He shook Hajime’s hand, warmly. “I’m proud of you two. One of the judges was actually a close friend of mine.”

“Really?” Hajime raised an eyebrow, opening the door for Shuichi to walk in. He followed behind him, towards the event room. Shuichi nodded. 

“Kaede Akamatsu. She’d a pianist. I, haha, I can’t even tell you how much praise she had for the two of you. I have to say I’m impressed.” Shuichi’s face was warm and his eyes gave away his excitement.  _ It’s not just a big deal for me and Nagito, it’s an amazing reflection on his own orchestra. No wonder he’s happy.  _ “Any idea when Nagito is gonna show up?”

“Erm, no, sorry. I talked to him this morning but he never mentioned a time.” Hajime shrugged. 

“That’s alright. Enjoy yourself. The night’s for you.” Shuichi let Hajime get to the party. 

“Hajime!” Souda’s voice called excitedly and an arm was suddenly slung over his shoulder. “Dude! You’ve gotta see the party, it’s amazing.” He pulled Hajime towards the crowd of fellow musicians in the event room. Usually, the parties were pretty tame. Jazz music and wine were about the limit for hedonism at most of Shuichi’s parties, but Hajime was beginning to think that it had been either Sonia or Souda who had planned his and Nagito’s party. The music was loud and exciting and it seemed like everyone had a drink in hand. It felt like everyone Hajime knew somehow managed to stop him and congratulate him. It felt amazing. Hajime didn’t think his face had ever hurt from smiling before that day. 

Souda and him met up with Gundham and Sonia after about an hour of walking around and talking to everyone. “Where is Nagito?” Sonia asked, looking around. Hajime frowned. 

“You haven’t seen him? He should be here by now.” Hajime waited for Sonia to shake her head before he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled Nagito’s number. It rang a few times with no answer. Hajime tried again to no avail. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and shrugged. “He’s not picking up. Knowing Nagito, he probably got distracted by some new piece he’s working on and is still sitting there practicing.” Hajime laughed it off. 

“Have you had a drink yet, Hajime?” Gundham asked, peeking out behind Sonia with a few drinks in hand. He shoved one into Hajime’s hand without waiting for an answer and urged him to drink it. He handed the other two drinks to Souda. In the space of another hour, Hajime felt fine, but Souda was getting drunk, laughing and making lame jokes. He leaned heavily on Hajime’s shoulder, a drunken giggle escaping his lips. 

“Hey, Hajime?” He tilted his head as Hajime grabbed his elbow to stop him from stumbling into a woman behind them. 

“What’s up?”

“Chiaki would be really, really proud if she were here.” He slurred and Hajime straightened up.  _ What? Why’s he bringing this up all of the sudden? _ “She was always sooo proud of you, y’know?”  _ I know he’s drunk. I can’t blame him, but it’s… hard. It’s hard not to.  _ “It’s actually kinda crazy. I always thought this party’d be for the two of you. You guys played really well together. I wish I could find someone to play with me like that.” Souda took a deep breath. 

“Souda…” Hajime said in a warning tone and he stopped. “I’m gonna try finding where Nagito is here, are you okay alone?”

“Are you mad at me? I’m sorry I brought up Chiaki, man, I wasn’t thinking.” Souda caught Hajime’s arm but he swatted it away.

“It’s fine, I just need some space. I’ll see you around.” Hajime leaned Souda against a table and wandered off, looking for that trademark tuft of white hair. He walked the perimeter of the party and while he ran into dozens of conversations with his fellow orchestra members, he couldn’t find Nagito anywhere. He saw Shuichi talking to some viola players off to the side of the room. “Hey, uh, Shuichi. Do you know if Nagito’s in the bathroom-”

“Bathroom? I haven’t seen him all night.” Shuichi frowned, shaking his head and then turning back to the conversation. Hajime frowned. He stopped; did one final sweep of the room. No Nagito in sight. He took his phone out of his pocket. No messages. Hajime called Nagito and this time, it went straight to voicemail. A shock of anger ran through him.  _ If Nagito has the time to hang up on me, then he has the time to show up for the party that’s for us. Seriously, everyone planned this whole thing for us, the least he could is show up.  _

Hajime stepped out of the room for some cool air, sinking onto a bench and checking his phone. Still nothing. Hajime glanced up and across the hall. Through the window of a practice room, he could see the piano inside, the white keys contrasting the dark piano. A sudden shock coursed through him. Hajime couldn’t explain it, but he felt a sudden anxiety so strong that it almost made his knees buckle. He stood up from the bench and pulled his keys from his pocket. He walked out to his car and unlocked it, getting in.  _ I’ll drive to Nagito’s house. If he’s there, I’ll drag him back over here. If he’s not, I’ll come back. I just need to get rid of this feeling.  _ He started the car and began driving to Nagito’s house after sending a quick explanation text to Gundham and asking him to cover for him if Shuichi asked around about his whereabouts. The drive started fast, but by the time he reached the major road there, it was terribly backed up.  _ Maybe he’s just two hours late in traffic.  _ Hajime mused to himself, growing bored in all the traffic.  _ Must be construction. Or an accident. _ He yawned. The traffic moved up a little and he could see lights up ahead. Hajime shifted in his seat, trying to get a better view of what was going on up ahead. It was an accident, with three cars thrown off the road and flipped different ways. 

A sudden, terrible thought occurred to Hajime. He remembered thinking of how terrible of a driver Nagito was. The way his phone suddenly turned off. His absence at the party. Hajime felt as though his blood had been turned to antifreeze as he waited for the traffic to allow him to inch up closer to the accident. When he got close enough, the feeling disappeared. In fact, everything disappeared. 

Nagito’s car was one of the cars flipped off the side of the road. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. 

 

_ Thump. _

_     Thump. _

_          Thump. _

 

He was back in the world and he pulled his car off so fast that he almost got in an accident himself. Hajime scrambled out of his car and towards the accident. A police officer stopped him. “Sir, a collision has happened, we can’t-”

“That’s my friend’s car, please,  _ please _ I need to get through-” he pushed past them and towards Nagito’s car. He couldn’t see the white haired man anywhere among the scene, but he told himself it was good.  _ He’s probably fine. Or in the hospital already. I’m sure he’s okay, he’s gotta be- oh my God. Oh my God.  _ Hajime saw a wisp of white hair poking out from the back of Nagito’s car, where two emergency workers were using a machine to lift the car. 

“His arm’s pinned, we’ve gotta pull him out, come on hurry up!” He heard a voice yell and suddenly the car was a few feet in the air and two people were pulling a body from underneath it. Hajime could see the underside of the car. There was blood. Too much of it. The bottom of the car was shiny with it. Hajime felt bile rising in the back of his throat and he took a step back, eyes wide with horror. The body they pulled from underneath the car was undeniably Nagito. As much blood and carnage was disfiguring it, the green jacket and white hair were dead give aways. The bile rose and Hajime had to double over to avoid throwing up.  _ Am I looking at his dead body right now? Oh my God, is Nagito… No. No way. That’s not fucking possible, he’s got to be okay, he’s got to be.  _ Nagito was pulled to an ambulance and Hajime glanced at the side of it, getting the hospital name. He jumped back into his car and booked it towards the hospital. He didn’t beat the ambulance, but he got there in time to see it unloading Nagito and two others into the ER entrance. 

Hajime pushed the hospital doors open and ran as fast as he could to the ER waiting room and up to the front desk. He was out of breath and he took a moment to catch his breath. “H-Hi, my friend… he was taken by an ambulance, I-I don’t-”

“Was it a car accident a few moments ago?”

“Yes! Please, I need to see him, u-um he’s in his twenties-”

“Sir, can we take you to triage so you can answer a few questions for our nurses?”

Hajime was led to a smaller room, where a woman with a clipboard sat him down. “U-Um hello sir. Do you mind, um, answering some questions about your friend while we operate?”

“ _ Operate _ ?”

“Y-yes.” She looked down at the clipboard. Hajime glanced at her nametag. Mikan Tsumiki. “Does he have any family?”

“Er, no.”

“Anyone we can contact?”

“Just me.” Hajime blinked at the realization of what he was saying. Mikan seemed to notice the sudden shift in his demeanor and her eyes widened a little and she leaned closer. 

“Um, sir, not to intrude, but… if you were to be his boyfriend, then we could allow you in the room a-and-”

“We’re dating! Yep!” Hajime rushed out the words. He tried to imagine Nagito’s reaction to that statement leaving his mouth, but the thought struck him that Nagito might  _ never _ be conscious again to realize that. He ran through more questions with Mikan until another nurse interrupted them to say that Nagito was in stable condition. “Can I see him?” He stood up too fast and he was dizzy. Mikan nodded to the other nurse and he was led to a hospital room. Nagito was lying on the bed, a bandage was wrapped around his forehead and a few cleaned gashes were spread across his body, but Nagito’s thin chest was at least rising and falling and the beeping of the monitors behind him was undeniable. “Oh my God, Nagito, thank God you’re okay.” He mumbled quietly, clutching the side of the hospital bed. As he stepped closer, he saw the worst of his injuries. Nagito’s left arm was discolored, purple, black, and blue all the way up to elbow like a neverending bruise. His fingers were bent in an unnatural way that bordered on Hajime thinking they might be broken. Stitches ran up and down his arm in different places, like tendrils of black smoke. Hajime choked on air. He knew the implications of the injury but they were too dark to think about… Too dark to dwell on. 

Mikan came back into the room and handed him the bag of items they’d found on Nagito’s body. Hajime picked his phone out of the bag and turned it on. His missed calls were there on the screen. Hajime swiped Nagito’s phone screen open, thanking God he didn’t have a password and opened up his phone app. The only calls he’d made in the last month were to numbers listed as take out restaurants, Shuichi, Hajime, or a contact saved as “Rantaro Amami.” Apparently Nagito really didn’t have any family or friends besides Hajime. He called the number and after a few rings, a man with a deep voice picked up. 

“Nagito?”

“Er, hi, my name is Hajime. I’m a…  _ friend _ of Nagito’s. He was just in a car crash and you’re one of the only other people he seems to know and-”

“Which hospital? I’ll be right there.”

Hajime gave Rantaro the address and he arrived soon after, pushing the hospital room’s door open. Hajime wasn’t sure what he’d expected Rantaro to be, but it was definitely not what he was. His green hair and piercings reminded Hajime of the kids he went to highschool with. Hajime stood up when Rantaro came in and shook his hand. “Hey, we spoke on the phone.”

“Yeah, thanks for calling. Is he, uh, alright?” Rantaro looked down at the unconscious and obviously injured Nagito. “What happened?”

“I-I really don’t know. I happened to see the accident and I pulled over. Nagito and I are, um, friends, but we mostly just work together. I was hoping to find some family in his contacts, but I, er, found you, instead.”

“Oh, uh, wow.” Rantaro laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, Hajime,” Hajime blinked. He wasn’t used to hearing his name, especially from someone who was practically a stranger. “I really don’t know Nagito all that well. We were friends in college before he dropped out, we’ve just kinda kept in contact, y’know. I talked to him a week ago, he was talking about winning something.”

“I was his partner for the competition.”

“Oh, congrats.” Rantaro clapped him on the shoulder.  _ How the hell can he act so calm right now? Nagito’s lying half dead next to us and he’s clapping me on the shoulder like we’re becoming old pals. _ “I guess all we can do is wait ‘till he wakes up, huh?” Rantaro shrugged, looking down at Nagito’s unmoving body. 

“Er, yeah. I mean, I guess.” Hajime sat down in one of the chairs and Rantaro sat in the other. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, until Hajime broke the ice. “So what was Nagito like in college?” 

Rantaro laughed, rubbing a hand over the ripped denim of his jeans. “We were both psych majors, so we studied together a lot.”

“Wait, sorry, Nagito was a psychology major? Really?” Hajime sat up in his seat. Rantaro nodded. 

“Yeahhh. His concentration was abnormal psych. I went into industrial psych the year he dropped, so we split ways a bit. But we still talk every once and awhile. He was definitely unique back then, y’know? He had a lot of problems making friends.” Rantaro took a long breath and caught Hajime’s eye. “A lot of people go into abnormal psych to try and… help others. I don’t know if that was ever Nagito’s plan. I think he just wanted to understand himself if that makes any sense. I think other people understood that. He’s a good guy, there’s just a lot going on up there.” Rantaro tapped on his forehead and then sat back in his chair, the sudden eye contact gone. 

“He’s very…  _ secretive _ about his life. I never even knew he had a plan in college. I knew he liked psych, but… wow.” Hajime glanced to Nagito’s hospital bed. “He’ll only ever talk about piano.”

“He was like that back then, too. I dunno how he did it. I don’t think he ever studied half as much as the time he spent playing our dorm’s piano. He used to get yelled at all the time for playing at night.” Rantaro mused, inspecting his fingernails. “I never knew him before his parents died. I think he probably would’ve been a different of they hadn’t.” Rantaro’s phone went off and he answered it. “Hey.” His voice was suddenly lighter, kinder. He carried on a conversation with whoever was on the other end for a few minutes while Hajime tried to decide what head position made him look the least like he was listening in. Rantaro hung up the phone and pulled a pad of paper from the hospital desk. “My sister’s throwing up, I have to get home to her. Um, here’s my cell and my home number. I’m not home during the day because of school, but my sister should be, if you need anything. Nice meeting you, give me a call when he wakes up.” Rantaro stood up, stretched, and wrote down a few numbers on the paper before handing it to Hajime. He waved a goodbye and left. Hajime watched him leave, feeling the whole conversation had been a hallucination.  _ So I guess Nagito’s friends are as weird as he is. Wait… Does that make me weird?  _ He frowned. A doctor came into the room and sat down across from Hajime.

“I’ve been informed that you’re the closest person to Nagito that we could find.” He phrased it like a question, so Hajime nodded. “I need to discuss the problem we’re having with Nagito.” The doctor took a breath. “We did an emergency reconstruction of his arm-”

“ _ Reconstruction _ ?! You… Like, you put it back together? What was it like before?” Hajime stared in horror at the purple tinted arm laying at Nagito’s side. 

The doctor hesitated, following Hajime’s gaze. “Mr. Komaeda’s arm was pinned underneath his car. Even smaller cars usually weigh around one point five tons, that’s a lot of weight for an arm to take. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop his arm getting crushed, but fortunately, we were able to fully reconstruct it. In most cases, the arm would have had to be amputated, but we think that with careful monitoring, Nagito should be able to keep his entire arm and hand. Although it may not seem like it, he’s incredibly lucky. His arm caused just enough friction to stop the car from crushing the rest of him.”  _ Luck. There it is, again.  _ Hajime stared at Nagito’s face. The bruising on his face made him look almost like a skeleton. Hajime sucked in a breath as the doctor continued. “Nagito will need physical therapy for a long time. The good news is that if he continues his physical therapy for the next two years he may be able to regain some of his abilities in his hand, like moving his wrist, flexing his fingers, etc.”

“ _ What?!” _ Hajime gripped the arms of his chair, stopping himself from standing up. “His arm doesn’t…  _ work _ anymore?”

“It’s… difficult to explain. We did everything we could, but the damage was already extreme enough that there was only so much we  _ could _ do. It’s as if his hand were removed and a corpse’s was sewn on. It’s there, it’s just that… it’s unlikely he’ll ever have full movement of it, again. It’s possible, but I want to give you a realistic goal to work towards.”

“Nagito- Nagito’s a pianist. He… H-He needs to be able to move his hand, I-I-”

“Oh. He’s a pianist? That’s…” The doctor seemed lost for words. He looked down at the ground before forcing himself to make eye contact with Hajime, again. “Other than his arm, he’s in surprisingly good condition. He’ll be asleep until the morning, most likely. We’ll hold him here, but you’re free to leave. Mr. Komaeda will need someone to drive him home tomorrow, but-”

“I’ll stay, if that’s okay.” Hajime blurted out before the doctor could finish talking. “I mean, can I stay?” Hajime looked around the room. It was rather cramped. The doctor nodded. 

“Of course, I’ll arrange for a guest cot to be brought in.” He shook Hajime’s hand, smiled warmly and left the room. Hajime heard the door close and he stood up, leaning over Nagito. Hajime’s hands dug into the sides of the hospital bed.  _ Oh my God, will he ever play again? I… I can’t even imagine. I’d rather lose both of my legs than a single finger, and I’m sure Nagito’s the same way and now he’s lost an entire arm, essentially.  _ Hajime felt a stinging sensation spread across his nose and eyes. His mind was flashing back to his conversation with Nagito earlier that day, when he’d claimed he needed music.  _ It’s a terrifying world where everything that matters to you can be stripped from you in the blink of an eye.  _ In a strange way, Hajime wished he hadn’t seen any of it. He was happy to have been there for Nagito and he wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if he  _ hadn’t _ been there, but just seeing such despair was absolutely horrifying to him. He was dreading Nagito’s reaction to when he woke up.  _ I can’t imagine how it would feel to wake up one day and have your entire life gone from you.  _

“Ha-Hajime?” There was a knock at the door. Hajime looked up. Mikan came through the door with something in her hand. She started to unfold it and he recognized it as a cot. He walked over to help her fold it out and place it at the other end of the room from Nagito’s bed. “Goodnight.” She squeaked and left the room quickly. He didn’t bother trying to call a response after her. He sat down on the cot and tried to lay down comfortably, which proved to be difficult on such an uncomfortable cot. He sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket. He had a few texts and missed calls from Souda, Gundham, and Shuichi. He rubbed his forehead, silently goraning.  _ What a nightmare of a night.  _ He dialled Shuichi’s number and heard it ring just once. His first instinct would’ve usually been Souda, but considering how much he’d drunk earlier, he didn’t think Souda would be the best person to inform everyone else what was going on. 

“Hajime?! Where are you? Gundham won’t tell me where you are and-”

“I’m at the hospital.”

“ _ What!? _ ”

“No- just wait a second! I’m okay, I’m all good,” He heard Shuichi sigh in relief on the other end. “It’s Nagito. He was in a car accident. He’s unconscious and er…”  _ Is it my place to tell him? Should I? _ Hajime rubbed his temples again, closing his eyes in frustration.  _ With how secretive Nagito is, I doubt he’d want everyone to know. I’ll just at least wait until he’s awake.  _ “He’s injured. Pretty badly. I’m staying here with him until he wakes up.”

“Do you want me to stop by? Or I can send Gundham and Sonia if you want?” Shuichi’s voice was audibly concerned. 

“No, I think it’s fine. He’s not even awake, yet. I’ll call you in the morning. But, erm, Nagito and I’ll probably won’t make it to the rehearsal tomorrow-”

“Of course, yeah. Stay safe. Take care of him. Let me know if you need anything, Hajime.” Shuichi waited for Hajime to hang up. Hajime settled back on the cot and stared at the ceiling, trying desperately not to look at Nagito. It was too hard to look at him and realize what had happened. 

 

\---

 

Hajime woke up at five in the morning as usual. He glanced over to Nagito. No movement. His heart monitor was beeping away slowly. Hajime took a relieved breath and laid back down. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got out of the cot, standing up to check on Nagito before leaving the rom a second to buy a coffee. He came back and sat down at the cot. Still nothing new with Nagito. Mikan checked on his vitals and said he was doing alright. She left quickly after with a rushed, stuttered goodbye to Hajime. He played games on his phone until it almost died and then he flipped through the pamphlets in the room. An hour passed and while Hajime was much more knowledgeable on the dangers of unsafe sex and not using sunscreen, he was still full of anxiety. Before he could try and find something else to take up the time, Mikan and the doctor came back into the room. 

“His heart rate is picking up.” Mikan explained as she got some medication ready. Hajime ran a hand through the back of his hair as he watched them gather around Nagito. A few seconds passed and Hajime was beginning to think it had been a false alarm. More seconds passed and Nagito remained unmoving in the bed. The breath Hajime didn’t realize he’d been holding left his body in a relieved sigh.  _ He doesn’t have to face it for a little bit longer.  _ Hajime thought to himself. 

“Ah!” Nagito lurched forward in the bed and Hajime jumped backwards almost a foot, nearly knocking over an IV stand.  _ Jesus Christ, that was like the Walking Dead.  _ Nagito’s eyes were surprisingly calm and after his sudden outburst, he seemed to calm down, again. “What happened? I dont… I don’t remember.” Nagito winced. “I can’t feel my body.”

“You were in a car crash last night. We gave you some pain medication while you slept and it should wear off in the next few minutes as you wake up. Can you tell me your name?”

“Nagito Komaeda.”

“Year?”

“2018.” Nagito frowned in confusion. “Did I hurt my head? Why do I need to answer questions?” His face looked troubled until his eyes shifted behind the doctor to Hajime and they went wide with surprise. “Hajime? What are you doing here?”

“I, er, I was coming to check on you since you didn’t show up last night and I happened to see the accident.”

“He stayed with you overnight.” The doctor nodded, checking off on the medication Mikan was suctioning into a syringe. Nagito stared down at the hospital blanket with an expression that Hajime couldn’t read. 

“Th-thank you.” He mumbled. 

“It’s not a big d- what’s wrong?” Hajime watched as Nagito’s eyes narrowed and a frown formed on his face. 

“What’s wrong with my arm?” He was staring at the discolored skin and the stitches. His right arm clenched in the bed sheets. “Why does it look like that?” His voice raised up more at the end than it would on a regular question. The doctor moved to stand on the other side of Nagito. 

“You arm was pinned underneath your car. We managed to salvage-”

“Why can’t I move it?” The panic was starting to make itself obvious in Nagito’s voice. The heart monitor started beeping faster. Nagito was getting more stressed. He raised his good hand and pressed down on one of the stitches. A sound almost like a whimper tore itself from his throat. His head turned to stare at the doctor. “I-I can’t feel it.  _ I can’t feel it. _ It’s… It’s just pressure. What’s wrong with it!?” Nagito was trying to sit up in the bed, scratching at the stitches until Mikan had lean forward and pull his arms away from each other. “ _ Let go of me!”  _ Nagito almost shrieked, trying to pull his hand away from Mikan. He went slack in her grip and dropped back to the hospital bed. Nagito stared ahead numbly, the panic on his face replaced by an expression so blank that he almost looked dead. Mikan quickly let go of him and his good hand fell onto the bed with a muted sound. The doctor inserted the syringe into his shoulder, but Nagito didn’t even turn to look at it. 

“This is just a painkiller, it should help with the stress, too.” The doctor mumbled, putting a bandaid over the small drop of blood the needle left. Nagito’s face was dark and his eyes were stormy. Hajime had never seen him look so upset. Mikan and the doctor were beginning to leave when Nagito raised his voice again. 

“When will I be able to move it again?” Nagito asked. The storminess in his eyes cleared for just a moment, but rather than a clear sky behind them, it was pure vulnerability and fear. It was a depth so strong that Hajime felt himself almost step away from the bed. The doctor hesitated before he answered and Nagito smiled. “Oh.” His voice was shaky and so were his shoulder. “O-Oh. Okay. Thank you, doctor.” He wasn’t truly calm. It was a thin sheet of ice over a roaring ocean and Hajime knew that ice would break soon. He knew Nagito would break soon. 

As they left, Hajime felt a panic rise in himself.  _ Don’t leave me with him alone. I don’t know how to deal with this.  _ He took a shaky breath and turned back to Nagito. “Nagito-”

“You can leave now, Hajime.” Nagito smiled, but it was wobbly. Wider than his usual smiles. Unsettling. “I’m sure you’re tired if you spent the night here, you should go rest. I will be fine.”

“I don’t really believe that.” Hajime frowned. 

“Hajime,  _ please _ , you should take care of yourself right now-”

“I’m not leaving, Nagito. No one else is here for you.” Hajime hadn't meant to  _ remind _ Nagito that he didn’t really have any family or many friends, but it came out that way. He cursed himself in his mind, but Nagito was just staring straight ahead without responding. “Nagito, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-”

“I knew this would happen.” Nagito’s voice broke. “I-I knew if I was happy that… that this would happen.” Nagito finally looked up at Hajime with an unflinching gaze. “ _ Hajime _ .” There was pure, raw desperation in his voice and it hurt Hajime to his core because he  _ didn’t know what he could even do _ .  _ How am I supposed to help him?  _ “I know I am as manipulative as they come, but please know I’m being genuine when I say I don’t need your pity.”

“What?” That was decidedly  _ not _ what Hajime had expected to hear come out of Nagito’s mouth. Nagito was avoiding eye contact again. He didn’t answer, just continued. 

“The only thing more useless than a useless pianist is a useless pianist with one arm.” Nagito laughed a hollow laugh devoid of any true emotion.

It took Hajime a moment to understand what Nagito was trying to imply, but when he did, he took a step closer, a hand grabbing the side of the hospital bed. “Nagito, I am  _ not _ just here because you’re my pianist. I’m here as your friend.” Hajime leaned over the hospital bed. There was no answer from Nagito. He eased up on the hospital bed to give Nagito some space. There was a small sound from the bed, so he looked back down. Nagito’s shoulders shook once and then he broke down, sobs shaking his entire body like a puppet. His left hand moved uselessly at his side as he cried. He used his right hand to try and wipe away the tears but more came before he could make any difference. Hajime awkwardly wrapped an arm around Nagito, trying to comfort him. The awkwardness was increased by the position of the hospital bed, but Hajime carried through, anyway. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He rested his chin on the top of Nagito’s head, trying to steady him. He could feel  wisps of white hair tickling his neck, but he ignored them. Nagito’s good arm grasped at Hajime, weakly. Something about the lack of grip shocked Hajime to his core.  _ I’m looking at a completely broken man.  _ He realized as he pressed a comforting kiss to the top of Nagito’s head. He didn’t mean it romantically and he hoped Nagito knew that, it just… felt like the right thing to do in the situation. Comforting others wasn’t his strong suit, so Hajime was relying on his muscles memory to do the work for him. 

“I-I have nothing.” Nagito choked, the wetness of his cheeks starting to seep through to Hajime’s chest. 

“That’s not true, Nagito, come on.” Hajime winced.  _ No, he’s right. But how am I supposed to say that?  _ “You’ve got me, right?” All he got in response was another painful sounding sob. Hajime held back a flinch. “They’re gonna release you today, do you wanna stay at my place until you’re back on your feet a bit more? It’s fine, I promise, I know you’ll probably freak out about it, but it’s all good, I swear.” Hajime was pretty sure he could feel a nod from Nagito, but he wasn’t sure. 

 

\---

 

When Nagito was released an hour later, he was completely unresponsive. No matter what Hajime did, he couldn’t elicit a reaction from the other man. Hajime scheduled a follow up appointment at the front desk because Nagito didn’t respond when the secretary asked him what days he was available. Hajime walked Nagito to his car and drove him to his apartment. He figured it would be too hard to get him up the stairs, so he took the elevator. Nagito jumped at the ding, but didn’t bother to look up. Hajime remembered a conversation they’d had once and led him to the kitchen when they got inside. “I’m going to grab some extra pillows for the bed, um, you’re welcome to make some tea if you’d like.” He offered.  _ That was what he said, right? Make some tea if you’re disturbed or something like that, right? I mean, Nagito wouldn’t just spew out random facts like that if he didn’t actually believe in them.  _

Nagito nodded, the first reaction Hajime had been able to get out of him. As he walked away, he could hear the sink turn on and the stove starting. He breathed a sigh of relief.  _ At least Nagito isn’t in too bad of shock _ , Hajime found himself thinking.  _ He’s able to turn the stove on and everything.  _ Hajime already had enough pillows, he just wanted to make sure that Nagito would have the space to try it on his own. He waited in the hallway, out of sight for a few seconds before coming back in. He walked up behind Nagito slowly. His hand was shaking slightly as he poured the kettle, but he was doing it at the very least. Nagito poured two cups, to Hajime’s surprise. He pushed one towards Hajime as Hajime reached above him for his tea bags. “I only have gray and green, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Nagito murmured, taking one of the tea bags.  _ Y’know, all things considered, he’s not doing badly. He just went through one of the worst losses I could imagine and he’s still up and moving. That’s more than I think I would be able to do.  _ “It was kind of you to remember what I told you about the tea.” He said quietly as he watched the tea bag drop into the steaming water. “But your kindness is wasted on me. I was miserable before this and now I’ve got what I deserve. I don’t know what you think you’re gaining from this, but I can assure it’s not worth the effort. I have nothing to give you besides money and it seems that you have that, as well.” 

“Y-you think you deserve this?” Hajime frowned.  _ I can’t even get over that, how am I supposed to dissect the rest of that sentence? This is too much to unpack.  _ Nagito froze for a second. 

“Have you ever done something that makes you feel so guilty that you like no pain in the world will ever be enough for you?” Nagito’s voice was deeper than usual. Hajime could see his good hand shaking around the handle of his mug. Hajime felt every bone in his body stop. He stared numbly down into his tea with wide eyes. Nagito laughed. It was too loud, too grating. “Ah, sorry, Hajime! I shouldn’t have expected you to understand. You’re far too-”

“No. I get it.” Hajime cut him off, a sharp breath leaving his mouth. He closed his eyes. “I… I know exactly how that feels, Nagito.” Memories started to break through the careful barrier he’d built over them but he took a deep breath and swallowed them back down. 

Nagito was watching Hajime with a scared expression.  _ I can’t scare him away.  _ He blinked.  _ I have to scare him away from me or he’ll get hurt. If Hajime doesn’t get away from me, he’ll get sucked into this, too. _ Nagito grabbed Hajime by the neck and before he could react, he pressed his lips to his. At first, Hajime spluttered and went stiff and Nagito felt relief course through him.  _ Oh thank God. Hajime, please save yourself from me.  _ But a second passed and Hajime was returning the kiss. He was gentle -too gentle.  _ I don’t deserve this please stop, this was supposed to scare you- _

“I know what you’re trying to do, Nagito. It’s not gonna work, okay? You’re not in a good place right now. I get that. Just take it easy.” Hajime pulled away from Nagito. “Do you wanna watch TV or something?” 

 

\---

 

That evening, Hajime was changing into pajamas when he noticed Nagito on the bed, staring at his left arm. “Y’know, the doctor said there’s still a slim chance that-”

“I have hope, Hajime. Don’t worry about that.” Nagito mumbled, turning the hand over to look at his wrist, where a particularly large set of stitches was crawling up his arm. He let go and it dangled limply. “I’m moving it.” His gaze was so fixated on the arm that it worried Hajime. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m telling it to move and I can feel it moving but it just… doesn’t.” Nagito shook his head in disgust at it. “It’s not my arm.”

“Er, I’m pretty sure it is-”

“I don’t mean on a physiological level, Hajime.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hajime sat down on the bed next to Nagito. He laid down over the blankets. 

“I have nothing to lose, anymore, Hajime.” Nagito stared up at the ceiling. Hajime turned on his side to look at Nagito. There was a long pause. “Why can’t I understand other people?”

Hajime opened his mouth, but closed it again, deciding he needed to think about what he was going to say. “It’s not your fault, Nagito.” He started, bringing a and up to put under his head like a pillow. “I think you just think a little differently than everyone else. It’s not bad, though.” Hajime looked back up at the ceiling. “You just need someone who puts in a bit more effort. Sorry, that’s rude, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I prefer the honesty.” Nagito said quietly. “I just… I don’t know how I’m supposed to get on with other people if I can’t use music. I’m a lackluster communicator, Hajime. It’s a shame I wasn’t born as a piece of dirt or something on a similar level.”  _ What the fuck.  _ Nagito’s words managed to confuse Hajime even more than usual. Nagito curled up on the bed, facing Hajime. “You really don’t remember me, Hajime?” His face had an odd expression that was some mix of vulnerability and bitterness. 

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t.” 

“We met four years ago, in competition.” Nagito pulled his good hand closer to his chest.  _ Wait… four years ago in competition… That was when- “ _ It was the competition where Chiaki was disqualified for cheating.” Nagito took a shaky breath. “I was alone. I was so scared, Hajime. And you were so kind to me. I spent weeks trying to understand what it was you could gain from me and when I realized it was nothing, I… I am forever indebted to you, Hajime. I’d never seen talent so grand with altruism, before. I’d never  _ understood _ altruism before.” Nagito was talking faster and pulling himself closer into himself with every word. “Before that day, I’d never felt the need to put effort into understanding human interaction. Into understand the people around me. You made me realize there was still hope in trying, Hajime.” Nagito’s final sentence came out in a rushed breath. 

“I… I don’t even remember what I did, though.” Hajime wsa beyond confused and he was starting to feel a little nervous. Something about Nagito’s fascination with him made him uncomfortable at times. It wasn’t Nagito’s feelings, but it was Hajime’s feeling that he couldn’t understand them. Like it was part of some joke he wasn’t in on. 

“I know. You just talked to me like I was a normal person. It meant the world to me back then, Hajime.” Nagito mumbled. “Back then, I believed that I had nothing and now that I really don’t, it somehow… it doesn’t feel like I thought it would.”

“Hey, Nagito, calm down. The doctor said that you’d be able to regain some movement with physical therapy. I’m sure you’ll be able to play again, soon enough.” Hajime instinctively reached a hand out to Nagito, who just stared down at it, instead of taking it. Hajime started to pull it away, but Nagito’s hand reached out quickly and took it. 

“Sorry, Hajime.” He mumbled. “I’ll start looking for a replacement pianist you in the meantime.”

“Yeah, no.” Hajime shook his head. “Just relax for a bit. I’m sure the physical therapist’ll tell you that it’ll just take a month or two and then we can be back to playing as per usual, yeah?” Hajime pulled the blanket over himself, but stayed facing Nagito. “Are you sure you’re okay in my bed? If it’s cramped on your arm, I can sleep on the couch-”

“No!” Nagito blurted out. “I mean, that’s not necessary, Hajime.” His hair had fallen over his face and onto the pillow, making his face look almost angelic. Hajime smiled at him. “Goodnight, Hajime.”

“Goodnight, Nagito.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you're all probably thinking "Another sick/injury fic, Clem, really?" but I swear this is different, haha. The story still has some surprising turns left in it that I think will surprise you all! Or at least, I hope so. Anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to read, it means a lot! Hope you all have wonderful days <3
> 
> p.s. I try to response to every comment I receive, but because of soon-to-be lack of wi-fi, it may take me a bit longer than usual to respond to comments, I apologize!


	3. Choke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the shorter chapter, hope it's not a problem. My internet has been a bit spotty since arriving. Hope you enjoy! Also this is a slower burn than i thought lol. 40k words in and no relationship yet lol.  
> TW: this chapter contains references to and thoughts of suicide/self-harm

Hajime woke up before Nagito the next morning. He turned on his side to watch Nagito. _But not in a creepy way. This is isn’t creepy. I’m just… Er, checking on him. Yeah._ Nagito didn’t move at all in his sleep, save for breathing. Nagito looked so peaceful that it was hard imagining he’d just lost his livelihood hours earlier. _I’ll let him sleep._ Hajime got up from the bed, sent one last glance at Nagito, and then walked drowsily into his kitchen. He opened his fridge, sorting through the food he had and trying desperately to remember if Nagito had ever mentioned any food allergies. He decided to take his chances and just makes some eggs.

As Hajime cooked the eggs over the stove, Nagito walked up behind him, making him jump a little. “You’re awake?” He glanced back at the white haired man.

“Good morning, Hajime.” Nagito mumbled. “I should be doing that,” he gestured to the stove. “You’re already doing me the favor of putting up with me in your own home.”

“Er,” Hajime was looking for an easy out to change the subject of the conversation. “Y’know, you’re doing really well. If I was in your position, I don’t think I would’ve even gotten out of bed.” _Shit wait. That sounds wayyy too harsh. Why am I so bad at this? Why does Nagito of all people make me nervous?_

“I’m used to loss, is all.” Nagito shook his head. “It’s nothing special. Ah, thank you.” Nagito took the plate of eggs that Hajime offered him. They ate in silence for a bit until the awkwardness became unbearable, even for Nagito. He tried to start a new conversation. “I really should thank you again, Hajime. I can’t imagine anyone else I’ve ever known would have put in the effort to spend the night with me or allow me into their home. You are a wonderful person.”

“Er, wonderful is a strong word.”

“I mean it.” Nagito looked away. “I mean almost everything I say, Hajime.”

“I know you do.” Hajime closed his eyes. “Hey, I forgot to tell you,” he opened them and took a drink of water. “Your friend Rantaro came by the hospital to check on you.”

Hajime had hoped that what he’d said might put the idea into Nagito’s head that despite how it looked, Hajime wasn’t the only person who had been there for him. Instead, Nagito went completely stiff. “Rantaro?”

“Er, yeah. He said he knew you in college.”

“What did he tell you?” Nagito’s voice was rushed out in a worried tone. Hajime laughed nervously.

“That er, you both studied psychology.” _I’ll leave off the part where Rantaro implied that Nagito was crazy._ “Oh, he said you were really devoted to piano back then, too.” Hajime nodded. Nagito’s eyes narrowed and his good hand wrapped itself around his bad one.

“Hm.” He hummed, his tone just barely giving away how invested he was in their conversation. “I can usually count on Rantaro not to overshare. He says it’s a skill that comes with being a sibling.” Nagito drummed the fingers of his good hand on the table.

“Well, he really didn’t tell me much. Hey, erm, would you like me to drive you to that follow up appointment you have? I know it’s not for a few days, but I just thought it might be easier and-”

“No, I’ve taken enough of your time.”

“I’m alright with that.” Hajime said too quickly. Nagito looked him up and down, continuing to drum his fingers. “Y’know, Nagito… I’m not really sure what it is you’re so guilty about. I don’t know if it’s what makes you so secretive, either, but…” Hajime closed his eyes, sighing. “I’m really not in a position to judge you. You’re weird and all that, but I still see you as my friend. I don’t care what you do as long as you’re not hurting anyone and I-”

“But what if I have? You know, hurt someone.” Nagito narrowed his eyes, his words coming out in a hiss of breath. Hajime frowned. “I know I make you nervous, sometimes, Hajime. Even right now.” Nagito watched him with an even glance. “I don’t want to ever see what you’d think of me if you knew who I really am. I hate seeing you scared, Hajime. More than anything.” Nagito finally broke his eye contact and Hajime felt relieved. _He’s right. He does make me nervous. But I still care about him._ “I want you to feel comfortable around me. I really do. I just don’t know how and the one thing I know with confidence is that you would be much more happy with this me rather than any version of myself from the past.”

 

* * *

 

 

Despite Nagito’s insistence that he was fine going home, Hajime had asked him to stay over another night as a favor. _Who am I to turn down doing a favor for Hajime?_ Nagito reasoned with himself, hating the selfish feelings bubbling up inside of him. He’d discovered falling asleep next to Hajime was comforting in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. No one had ever cared as much as Hajime. It also made Nagito less afraid of sleeping. When he slept, he often dreamed of piano and now all of that left a sour taste in his mouth. _But if Hajime’s there, memories or not, it’s a pleasant experience._ Hajime fell asleep before he did and his soft snores were making the room feel less lonely. _I was in the accident to make up for winning the competition. And Hajime was the one to be here for me to make up for losing my arm._ Nagito went over the events in his mind, trying to make sure there weren’t any other pieces of recent good news that could catch up with him in the form of bad luck.

For many years, Nagito had used piano as a way to combat his sleeping problems. He’d run through songs in his mind or go over scales. But he didn’t want to do that now. He turned instead to a trick he’d used in college. Going through statistics problems usually got him bored enough to sleep. Fortunately, it worked. Unfortunately, it seemed whoever or whatever designed his dreams had it out for him.

When Nagito awoke, he was four years in the past. He stared down at his arm, suddenly much more grateful for it than he had been back then. He looked up to see a hotel lobby full of people, all carrying instrument cases and sheet music. He was one of them. He’d had this dream many times. Nagito sighed and started towards room 4D. He knew this dream far too well. He’d had the room memorized for years. He pushed open room 4D and took the first seat to the left. He always took that seat, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because that was the seat he’d taken those four years ago. He was worried something bad would happen if he didn’t. He glanced at the clock. He had one minute. Nagito was the only person in the room. He was every time. At least for a little while. The sign on the door said, “solo piano 15-17.” He would turn eighteen in just a few days. He remembered feeling lucky that he’d just made the cutoff for age seventeen. The door creaked open and Nagito realized his minute had passed. A younger looking Hajime peeked through the door, looking for the competition sign. Nagito felt his breath catch. He remembered the first time everything had happened, the way he’d known Hajime was special just from the first time he saw him.

“Hi.” Hajime sat down next to Nagito. He was fidgeting and at first, Nagito figured it was for the same reason all the others fidgeted around him. Why everyone avoided his eyes and talked in hushed tones around him. But then, Hajime looked Nagito in the eye and grinned. “Are you competing?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Er, no. I’m just waiting on someone. I’m a violinist.” Hajime was tapping his foot, watching the door.

“Ah. So is your competition finished?” Nagito was still waiting for the realization to hit Hajime, but it didn’t. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was sitting next to a monster. Hajime nodded, frowning.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a duo in thirty minutes and my pianist is in there,” Hajime gestured at the door.

“Oh. Well good luck.” Nagito usually didn’t wish good luck on most people. He knew what came with it. But it seemed like Hajime could handle it. Nagito hadn’t realized his hands were shaking until Hajime looked down at them with a small chuckle.

“Nervous about competing?” Hajime asked light heartedly. _No,_ Nagito wanted to say, _my hands don’t shake when I’m nervous about music. I don't_ get _nervous about music. I get nervous around people._ _I’m nervous you’ll figure out who I am._ Instead, he just nodded. Hajime waved a hand. “Don’t be. Chiaki saw you practicing earlier, she said you were really good. And she’s got a good eye.” Hajime smiled. Nagito didn’t know who Chiaki was or really, even who Hajime was, but the compliment hit hard. He blinked blankly. It was the first time someone had complimented him so easily since… Since…

“Ah, th-thank you.” He mumbled before his mind could get the best of him. _It’s been so long since someone talked to me like this. No anger or fear or motives. Is this altruism? What does he think he is getting out of this?_ Hajime dug through his pocket for something. When he found it, he pulled it out and offered it to Nagito.

“Here. I found it earlier and picked it up for good luck and all that, y’know? I only needed it for my solo, so you can have it if you want.” Hajime waited until Nagito’s hand opened and then dropped the charm in his palm. It was a single penny. “‘Cause pennies are good luck or whatever.” Hajime shrugged.

“Are you sure?”

“Dude, it’s one cent.”

“Thank you, er,”

“Hajime Hinata.” Hajime held out his hand but before Nagito could take it, the door to the competition room opened and a girl stepped out. Nagito didn't catch her face but he knew it must have been Chiaki. Hajime immediately stood up to talk to her, smiling and waving a goodbye to Nagito as he went. Nagito watched him leave with wide eyes, gripping the penny in his hand tightly. It had been years since Nagito had given up on other people. He’d spent all of high school and middle school alone at the best times and mocked at the worst. He hadn’t been close with his family before they… He took a breath. _Maybe there is still hope in others. Maybe she was wrong about everyone else._

“Nagito Komaeda, we’re ready for you.” Someone opened the door and called. Nagito stood up, shuffling his sheet music and walking into the room. He sat down at the piano and took a deep breath before playing. He lifted his hands over the keys and they connected soon after. Almost immediately, he realized something was wrong. He wasn’t playing a competition piece. He didn’t recognize it at first, he just watched his hands play, as though disconnected from them. When it dawned on him what song it was, his blood turned cold. It was _her_ favorite song. La Campanella by Liszt. _I never played this in competition._ Nagito stared at the keys in horror, unable to stop his hands from playing anything else. _Even in my prime, I doubt I’d be good enough to play this entire piece like I’m doing now. Something’s wrong_ . As the piece wore on, the feeling that something was terribly, horribly wrong continued to fester like an open wound. _Please stop, please stop._ Nagito was begging himself, but he couldn’t. _Something very bad is going to happen if I finish this piece._

The final stretch of the song began. The most difficult part. _Something awful is going to happen. Soon._ The music was trying to drown his anxiety and squash it and that was making him even more nervous. The song came to a dramatic end and the anxiety was killing Nagito. He felt like a rabbit, running away from a wolf hot on its trail. He was finally free from whatever curse the piano had put on him and he stood up, jumping away from it. A slow clap echoed through the room. _Clap, clap, clap._ Nagito swallowed. Paused. Looked at the judge. He saw the wolf he was running from.

Junko Enoshima was sitting at the judges’ table, blonde pigtails swishing with each clap of her hands. She smiled, large and sadistic, her eyes locked onto Nagito’s. Panic flooded every vein in his body as Nagito stepped away from her, eyes wide and lip trembling. He hadn’t seen her since-

Nagito woke up.

A terrified noise ripped its way out of the back of his throat and he sat up straight in the bed. His good arm wrapped around himself tightly and he felt his chest heave, his breaths coming out too short and shallow. “Mm. Nagito?” Hajime mumbled from his side of the bed. Nagito didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Hajime rubbed his eyes and sat up, too. He pulled Nagito to his chest and held him there. Nagito clutched tightly at Hajime’s shirt with his good arm and watched his bad arm lay at Hajime’s side. “Hey, shh, it’s okay.” Hajime’s voice was slurred with sleep. “Should I take you back to the ER?”

“N-no.” Nagito finally managed a word. He wanted to crawl into Hajime’s rib cage. It would be so much safer than the real world. So much warmer. Hajime’s hand found a way to his hair and rested there comfortably. His other hand rested on Nagito’s back and the warmth was comforting. _I’m lucky that he thinks this is all because of my injury._ Hajime reached behind Nagito for the pain medication the hospital had given him (not that he needed it. At least so far, he still couldn’t feel a thing through his whole arm.) Nagito stopped him. “I don’t need it.” He shook his head.

“Um, you seem pretty… Upset. So if this is just you hurting yourself, I-”

“I can’t _feel_ the arm, Hajime. I don’t need pain medication for it.” Nagito snapped, instantly feeling bad. _Why can’t I stop myself around Hajime? It’s so difficult to control myself. He’s going to hate me-_

“Oh. Sorry.” Hajime shrugged noncommittally, seemingly unaffected by Nagito’s tone. He could feel Nagito’s warmth through his t-shirt and in a strange way, he enjoyed having the other man there in his arms. _He’s so pointy, you’d think he’d be uncomfortable to hold like this, but he’s actually surprisingly soft._ Hajime thought to himself, trying to listen to if Nagito’s breathing had slowed down at all. _This is the closest we’ve ever been. Even when he, er, y’know…_ Hajime’s thoughts stopped when he noticed Nagito picking at the stitches on his arm. “Hey, you shouldn’t do that.” Hajime stopped him by grabbing his hand. He didn’t realize he was _holding_ his hand until Nagito’s wide eyed gaze travelled from where their hands met to Hajime’s face.

Something shifted in the air and it was became much thicker, weighted down with an inexplicable tension. Before Hajime could dwell on it, Nagito’s face was suddenly much closer to his. Their lips connected, harsh at first, with teeth bumping together and Nagito biting a little, but it turned softer quickly. Hajime’s hands were already on Nagito’s body, but he found himself wanting to explore all of it, one of his hands pushing up Nagito’s shirt to feel the soft skin of his chest. He dragged his fingers across the thin skin stretched over his hip bone and Nagito raised his hips just so slightly that Hajime didn’t think he’d done it on purpose. It was comforting, thinking that Nagito was doing this as spontaneously as Hajime. Sometimes it felt like he had some grand plan and Hajime was just a little piece in it to earn like a trophy. Then again, that dangerous side of Nagito scared him much less now that he was vulnerable beneath him and basically one-armed. Nagito made a small noise and reached for the drawstring of Hajime’s pajama pants, but Hajime grabbed his wrist -another action that was much easier when there was only one arm to watch out for.

Hajime didn’t let go of the hand, but he moved his fingers up to lace them through Nagito’s. He pressed a kiss to Nagito’s neck, feeling the taller man squirm beneath him. He used his body to pin him down and bit down gently into Nagito’s collar bone. Nagito rolled his hips eagerly into Hajime’s. _I’ve had enough playing around_. Hajime decided, his free hand moving down to Nagito’s groin. He’d just barely pressed down with the flat of his hand when Nagito let out another noise, surprised and needy. Experimentally, he squeezed, noticing Nagito was painfully hard. Nagito yelped. Hajime moved his hand away, resting it on Nagito’s thigh. “Mm, calm down.” He mumbled into Nagito’s neck.

“It’s difficult to be _calm_ in this sort of situation, Hajime. In fact, I remember you making your fair share of noises-”

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?” Hajime glared over him, stopping Nagito’s point. Nagito hesitated for a second before wrapping the long fingers on his good hand around one of Hajime’s. He lifted the hand to his throat and pressed. Hajime choked, rather than Nagito.

“No.” Hajime shook his head quickly.

“You’re the one who asked.” Nagito frowned back, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah but what if I hurt you?” Hajime squeezed for effect, feeling the quickening pulse under his fingers as he did. Nagito made a noise from the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a moan. Hajime realized a second too late and his hand froze for a moment before he lifted it away from Nagito’s neck, feeling Nagito’s dick twitch as he pulled it away. The look on Nagito’s face told Hajime he knew the games he was playing with Hajime’s head. _Hurt me, do it, I dare you._ Was clear in his eyes. “Oh, fuck you.” Hajime sighed, half joking, half serious.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to do, if you haven’t noticed, Hajime.” Nagito’s voice was flat. Hajime’s words got stuck in his throat.

“I’m _not_ doing anything weird to get you off.”

“That’s dull.” Nagito frowned. Hajime wanted to scream. _I’m starting to think that the word surreal is a synonym for Nagito Komaeda._ Hajime groaned inwardly. “Hajime-”

“You’re not convincing me to hurt you. I’m not letting you turn me into another outlet of self destruction, okay?” Hajime grumbled. Nagito’s mouth closed and for a few solid seconds, he stared at the ceiling. If Hajime didn’t know any better, he’d say Nagito was _pouting_.

“Hajime, it won’t be weird, I promise.” Nagit piped up after a few seconds. Hajime groaned outwardly this time.

“No.” He shook his head, leaning away. _I don’t believe Nagito one bit._ He realized. There was another pause.

“I’ll do all the work.” Nagito tried again.

“Nagito-” Hajime started, reservation already plain in his tone.

“Alright, sorry, Hajime. I’ll deal with this predicament that you so kindly put me in on my own so as not to bother you, but do know that I’m grateful for your starting it. Hopefully, I won’t disturb your sleep. I haven’t yet attempted to masturbate with one hand and while I only usually use one hand, it could possibly throw my balance off and wake you up, so I am terribly sorry in advance-”

“Jesus Christ, Nagito, _fine_ .” Hajime rolled his eyes, shifting back over to Nagito on the bed. Nagito’s hand was already moving under his pajamas, so Hajime just leaned forward and kissed Nagito again. It was a deep kiss and when he pulled away just enough to let Nagito’s tongue in, he heard a low, whine come from the other man. Nagito’s hand was moving faster and his breathing was starting to catch. Hajime reached down to where Nagito’s hand was and let his wrap around it. Nagito shuddered out a gasp. “You’re awfully excited.” Hajime raised an eyebrow. Nagito was coming undone too quickly. He frowned. “You’re probably thinking of something pretty fucked up, aren’t you?” He watched Nagito gasp out an inaudible response, almost amused. _It’s so easy to turn him into such a wreck. I never would have guessed._

“I’m thinking about _you_ , Hajime.” Nagito finally shook his head, smirking before his eyes locking onto Hajime’s with an intense stare. “I’m thinking about how you’re watching me be filthy.” The depths of Nagito’s eyes terrified Hajime. There was too much affection there. Too many secrets. Without meaning to, he gripped Nagito too tightly -more tightly than could be comfortable. Nagito’s back arched off the bed just an inch or so and he made a sound that would have sounded like a whimper in a different context. He went slack in Hajime’s hands, another sound pushing past his lips as he came. He used his good hand to push off the bed. “I’m going to shower.” He walked to the bathroom and Hajime watched him go. Hajime’s hands found their way to his own groin and he sighed in relief that it didn’t seem like Nagito had realized how excited he had been. The realization that just watching Nagito get off aroused him that much was horrible enough; he didn’t need Nagito _knowing_ about it. He waited until he heard the shower start before he began to touch himself. He finished quickly into a tissue before crawling back under the covers. By the time Nagito crawled back into the bed, Hajime had fallen into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

  


In the morning, Hajime awoke surprised to find himself tangled around Nagito like they’d been cuddling. _Of course we_ haven’t _been cuddling. We’re not a couple. Just, erm, coworkers, wait… Okay well, we’re friends. It’s normal to maybe mess around with your friends a bit, right?_ Hajime knew it wasn’t, but he couldn’t force himself to pull away from the warmth and comfort of another human lying in his arms. It was too difficult. Nagito stirred and for a second, Hajime felt nervous. _What if he takes this the wrong way? Or thinks_ I _did this to him in the middle of night?_ The idea that Hajime had been the one to cuddle up to Nagito had never occurred to him. “Mm, Hajime.” Nagito just mumbled and buried deeper in his arms. A strange warmth flooded his body and Hajime tried to remind himself that Nagito was a coworker, possibly crazy, and also now injured- _wait._ A terrible thought entered Hajime’s head, pushing its way in violently. _Did I take advantage of him last night?_ He ran a nervous hand through Nagito’s hair. The other man made a noise in his sleep. _Nagito’s got a fucked up sense of gratitude and he might have thought he had to do something like that with me as, I dunno, payment, I guess. No, wait. He didn’t even know I got off last night._ He’s _the only one, as far as he knows, that got anything out of the deal. Well, I guess seeing him like that was-_ Hajime’s eyes snapped open. _What the_ fuck _am I thinking? Jesus, stop it. It doesn’t matter how sexually attractive Nagito is, I’m not going down that path. This time and the other time were one time things. Well, er, two time things._ Hajime glanced down at Nagito’s sleeping form.

His pajama shirt had ridden up enough to reveal the scar Hajime had noticed, before. He watched Nagito for any sign of consciousness before he pulled his pajama shirt and pants down an inch to look at it. It wasn’t terribly disfiguring, but it was a surprisingly deep and thin scar. _Nagito grew up rich and he’s a musician. I doubt he’s ever been in much danger before. When or where would he even get a scar like this?_ Hajime wondered, idly running a finger down it.

“Hajime?” Nagito was awake. Hajime flinched. _I’m fucking sitting here, pulling his pants down in his sleep this looks terrible._

“Er, it’s not what it looks like.” Hajime tried.

“It’s alright if you want to do that, Hajime. Though, you might have better luck with getting what you’re looking for when I’m awake. Then again, my personality is dreadful so maybe it’d be better if I were unconscious-”

“ _Nagito_.” There was a tone in Hajime’s voice that somehow succeeded in the impossible: making Nagito Komaeda shut up. He sighed and laid his head back on Hajime’s arm, wisps of hair tickling the inside of Hajime’s elbow. Nagito was tracing random patterns into the skin on Hajime’s arm that he could reach with his good one. Hajime hoped his arm wouldn’t betray him with goosebumps. Nagito’s hand felt its way up to Hajime’s hand, running his fingers over every knuckle like he was trying to memorize it. “What are you doing?” Hajime frowned, watching him study his hand like it was a famous sculpture. Nagito froze and let go of him.

“Ah, sorry, Hajime.”

“No, you’re fine. I was just wondering is all.”

There was a pause. Nagito looked away. “No one’s ever let me this close, before. Not like this. There’s always been a pretense or a motive.” Nagito almost seemed embarrassed. He recovered back into his usual flow quickly, though. “Well, I suppose I am rather difficult to be around so I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to engage in any kind of affection with me, much less a physical one, but I am very honored that Hajime is kind enough to pretend that I’m worthy of it.” He seemed relieved at falling back into his usual self-deprecating habits. He separated himself from Hajime and pushed away from the bed. There was a small pile of his clothes that Hajime had fetched for him on top of Hajime’s dresser and he picked up a pair of pants from them. He looked over his shoulder. “Oh, and Hajime? Next time you want to jerk off just tell me and I’ll do it for you.” He said too casually, pulling a shirt from the pile as he spoke. Hajime choked on air. _So he did know._

“Alright, Nagito. Right now.” He wanted to see how far this “devotion” ran. He hoped desperately it wall just some act, but Nagito frowned and set down the clothes again, approaching the bed. Hajime stopped him. “I was joking.”

“Sorry, Hajime. I’ve been told I don’t understand jokes very well, but I’m sure that was very funny!” Nagito smiled. “But I hope you know I wasn’t joking. Now or that night, either. If you ask me to do something that is possible, I will do it. You could have complete power over me if you wanted, Hajime.”

A feeling like ice ran down Hajime back, but not in a bad way. He blinked. _Fuck._ He searched Nagito’s face, trying to determine how serious he was. _I hate that that turned me on. I hate that so much._ “Why… Why would you even want that?”

“‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely.’” Nagito quoted in a sing-song voice. “To see that side of you would be so interesting, Hajime.”

“You’re willing to give up free will and dignity because something might be _interesting_?” Hajime shook his head in disbelief.

“I’ve never claimed to be pragmatic.” Nagito shrugged.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days passed and Nagito’s first physical therapy appointment came up. As he’d promised, Hajime drove Nagito to it and then drove to his music school. Gundham had asked him for some advice on a new solo he was working on and Souda claimed he would be there, as well. It was an indescribable relief pulling open the practice room door. _Finally, some semblance of my regular life._ Hajime sighed. Gundham and Souda were waiting inside. “Hi Hajime!” Souda waved. Gundham waved over his breakfast that he was finishing at the piano bench. Souda looked around.

“No Komaeda?”

“Er, he’s at physical therapy. Besides, it’s not like we’re usually togeth-” except he stopped because, now that he thought about it, _we are usually together. Shit._

“Has his hand recovered?” Gundham threw out his yogurt container and picked up his bow. Hajime took a breath.

“Er,” he frowned. “The injury was pretty bad. It’s gonna take a long while.” Hajime watched Gundham absentmindedly bow through a piece. Souda was staring at Hajime.

“Heard it was pretty gruesome. Did you get to see?”

“Don’t say it like it’s exciting. But, yeah. I’m glad he’s okay.” Hajime shuffled through Gundham’s sheet music, mentally comparing which pieces they had in common. He reached one that was a bit faster than Gundham’s usual and he stopped to look it over. _B E G E F… Why do those notes sound familiar?_ He hummed the tune and realized it was the solo piece Nagito had played for him the day of his accident. It was titled “the Butterfly.” “Nagito’s played this.” He frowned at it.

“It is the same time signature as the jazz piece we saw him perform.” Gundham nodded. “You may have it, Hajime. It must have some sort of otherworldly blessing on it because I cannot do it justice.”

“Thanks.” He put it into his own folder. They played around together for a while in the practice room and then chatted. Hajime hadn’t realized how much he’d missed them the last few days. He kept his phone ringer on for Nagito, but never receive a call. _Maybe he got a taxi. Or it’s a long appointment._ Hajime figured. He stayed around for the main orchestra practice, for fear of losing his job. Even though the orchestra wasn’t currently practicing for any upcoming performances, they were still expected to keep sharp and practice. Afterwards, he went to his own practice room and plucked through The Butterfly until he felt fairly confident in it. Gundham and Souda came back in and he greeted them. They were arguing over the chord progression for a piece they’d all played a long time ago. “I’ll call Nagito, I’ll bet he knows.” Hajime sighed. He dialled Nagito’s number and listened to it ring.

 

* * *

 

 

After Nagito had been dropped off by Hajime, he’d gone inside to meet his physical therapist. His name was Kaito Momota and his cheerfulness was astounding, even to Nagito. They talked for a bit until finally Kaito leaned forward, his tone growing hushed. “Did you get my call?”

“Ah, no, sorry. I haven’t been at home so I haven’t answered any calls to my home phone.” Nagito shook his head. Kaito went pale.

“Oh. Okay. Cool. Um… We should talk.” He took leaned against the physical therapy table Nagito was sitting on. “So, your arm was hurt really badly. I know you know that. Er, it’s really great you’ve still got it, though. That’s cool. So, right now, you say you have no feeling, right?” Kaito asked, pulling Nagito’s arm out in front of him. Nagito nodded. Kaito pressed on a few placed in the upper arm. “Do you feel pressure or nothing at all?” He asked.

“Pressure.”

“And here?” He pressed on Nagito’s finger tips harshly. He hissed, recoiling. “That’s a weird feeling, isn’t it? Kind of like pins and needles?” Kaito tilted his head at Nagito’s nod. It was much worse than pins and needles, though. Nagito hadn’t been conscious for his arm being crushed but he imagined it was a similar feeling, a bone pricking tickle that turned into an acidic burn and tearing sensation. “So, there’s an issue with that. I’m going to be honest with you, Nagito. I seriously doubt you’ll ever move your hand or fingers again. There’s really nothing more we can do for you. We could try to help you get feeling back, but all that would happen is that your whole arm would start to feel like how your fingers do and it wouldn’t do you much good. What I’d recommend, is beginning to learn how to live with just the one arm.”

With every word, Nagito felt his hope grow bleaker. By the time Kaito finished, he wasn’t there. He was off in his head, his fears consuming him. _All I have is piano. I’ve given up everything for piano. I have no family or friends besides Hajime._ He blinked. _I have Hajime._ He was comforted by the thought, but memories resurfaced with it. Memories of someone else, warning him that no one was really on his side. _No one will ever love you. You can’t even love yourself._ Her voice echoed in his head and he took a shaky breath. “Nagito?” Kaito tapped his shoulder. “I know this is probably shocking, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Nagito shook his head. He stood up, numbly. He walked to the front desk and handed them his credit card. When it was given back to him, he didn’t wait for a goodbye or Kaito, he just walked outside. _I won’t bother Hajime. He’s happy with me now but if I ask too much of him, he’ll get sick of me, too._ Nagito started the walk home. It took about an hour to reach his house. He unlocked the front door and made a beeline for the music room. He sat down at the piano bench, took a breath, and laid his good hand on the keys. He picked up his bad hand and put it next to it. He started playing with his right hand, silently willing his left to pick up and go with it, but it just laid there uselessly. He growled in frustration and forced his fingers into the formation of a C chord on the keys. _Useless fucking idiot just play the piano! It’s the only thing you’re even good at._ The pins and needles feeling was stinging up to his shoulder but he ignored it. He slammed his bad arm into the wall next to him with a _thump._ “ _Work!_ ” He snapped at it. He didn’t even feel its contact with the wall. Nagito felt his breath speed up until he couldn’t control it anymore. Until it started to hurt to breathe. He stood up violently from the piano bench and stalked into his bedroom, digging beneath his bed for a locked metal box. He pulled it out and unlocked it with shaking hands. He took the contents out and carried them to his piano, sitting back down at the bench.

Since losing the use of his hand, Nagito had begun to realize that many things were much more difficult than before. Loading bullets into guns, he decided, was very much one of those things. _This will be so much easier on Hajime. On everyone. If I was gone, things would be easier. And now that I have nothing, who would even care for more than a few days?_ He took a breath and pulled the gun up to his mouth.

 

_R I N G._

 

Nagito stared at the phone and then back at the gun. It rang again. He put the gun down and answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Nagito?” _Hajime_. “Did the chord progression on La Vida go C-Eminor-D or Bminor-Eminor-D?”

Nagito felt something stick in the back of his throat. He put the phone down, but held on to it, holding a frantic hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d just been about to do. He blinked back the tears pricking in his eyes and picked the phone back up. “C-Eminor-D. Why?” His voice sounded different, _but who would even notice? Everyone else finds me as unsolvable as I find them._

“Er, Gundham and Souda have a bet going.”

“Ah. Give them my regards.” He put a hand over his eyes, realizing his luck had once again come into play.

“Is everything alright, you sound strange, Nagito. Was physical therapy okay?” Hajime asked into the phone. Nagito froze up. _How does Hajime know when I’m not okay? I don’t understand. He’s the only one who does._ Nagito did everything in his power to hold back the torrential downpour of tears, but he couldn’t stop them. He hiccuped a sob into the receiver, covering his eyes with his hand. “Where are you?”

“M-my house.”

“Jesus Christ how did you get there?”

“I walked.” Nagito heard the line go dead and he set the phone down carefully on the piano bench next to the gun. _Everything evens out. Good luck and bad luck are an eternal scale that I’ll never escape from. My bad luck was realizing I’ll never use my hand again. My good luck was realizing I am in love with Hajime._

Minutes later, Hajime showed up at Nagito’s doorstep, eyes dark and face pale. “What’s wrong?” He walked inside, catching Nagito’s red rimmed eyes and expression.

“I-I…” Nagito stammered. Hajime looked past him and saw the gun lying on the piano. He made a noise like a yelp and stared at Nagito.

“You weren’t…?” Hajime didn’t finish his sentence - _couldn’t_ finish his sentence. Nagito just pursed his lips and looked away. Hajime took a step away from him, eyes wide and shocked. Nagito held back a rueful grin. _Should have known it would end like this. I bet I’ve finally jumped over the side of that line I’ve been walking in Hajime’s head and now he’ll want nothing to do with me. Who can blame him? I’m a mess._ Hajime opened his mouth and Nagito braced himself. _I know I deserve it and I know it’s coming but it is still going to hurt._ “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Hajime breathed, pulling Nagito into a tight embrace.

It took Nagito a second to process the words. They hadn’t been what he was expecting and they took him by surprise. He hesitated before hugging Hajime back, good arm stiff with shock. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have just left you like that. You don’t have anyone else and I made you go _alone_ , knowing something like this could happen. I’m sorry, Nagito. I… You’ve seemed so great the past few days and you’ve been dealing so well with everything and I should have known you were dealing with it _too well_ and-”

“This isn’t your fault, Hajime.” Nagito frowned. Hajime didn’t respond, just pulled him tighter to him. His whole life, there had never been anything stopping Nagito from dying. It had always been a ready, last plan. He’d figured, _well, if everything goes wrong, I can just kill myself._ And now, for the first time, there was someone else who needed Nagito. A reason for him to live besides his piano. _This will take some getting used to._ He thought. _But I will do it. I can’t fathom why my death would be more than an inconvenience for Hajime, but I’ll be careful with myself from now on._

 

* * *

 

Hajime was able to convince Nagito to stay with him much more easily this time around. Nagito fell asleep before him and he continued plucking through the Butterfly until a terrible, horrible idea struck him. He prepared himself and picked up his phone, rubbing his temples. It rang four times before someone picked up. “Hey dad.” He sighed when he heard someone pick up the line.

“Hajime, did you change your mind about the job offer?”

“Er, no. I need a favor. I’ll pay.”

There was a smug silence on the other end. “So medicine’s finally worth something to you.” His dad was already grating on his nerves and he hadn’t even asked him anything yet. When the provocation elicited nothing from Hajime, his father tried again. “What do you need?”

Hajime hesitated. _How do I even phrase this to my dad?_ “I have, er, a friend.”

“What a surprise.”

“Shut up.” Hajime rolled his eyes at his dad’s laugh. He started again. “I have a friend, who, erm, was in an accident. He lost the use of his arm. He’s a pianist.”

“Definitely unfortunate.”

“Yeah, well, it was recent. And they said there’s nothing they can do for him. I just thought-”

“I’ll send my best surgeon. I can’t promise anything but he’ll do his best. But I need something in return-”

“I already said I’d pay-”

“No, I want something else. Promise you’ll look into the family business seriously. Just once.” His dad’s voice was hopeful. Hajime closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and responded.

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks Dad.” _Does he really think with how much he’s shoved the company down my throat that I’d be interested? Music is what I was born to do, I couldn’t do anything else with my life._ His father’s medical engineering company has been a constant sore subject growing up. Still was.

“Now, Hajime, I need to warn you of a few things.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“Well, for one. There may be nothing we can do. His hand could be incapable for the rest of his life. You need to realize that and so does he. We can only help certain cases.”

“Yeah. I know.” Hajime frowned. His dad continued.

“And secondly, er… The surgeon. He’ll do a run through with Nagito and his medical records and then evaluate. I’m sure you know all that, but er, he’s an odd duck.” Hajime’s father’s voice was dipping as he spoke, like he was holding something back. Hajime knew his dad wouldn’t give him a straight answer if he asked about it. He didn’t push it. “He’s in the area, I’ll have him stop by tomorrow.”

“Hey, um, thanks Dad. It means a lot.”

“Keep your promise.”

Hajime took a breath. “Yep. Bye.” He hung up the phone and stared ahead at the ceiling. Hajime went to bed, snuck in next to Nagito. _I haven’t asked my dad for a favor since I moved out of his house. I’m surprised he said yes._ Hajime blinked at the white ceiling, spots dancing in his vision. _I hate calling my dad more than anything. I’m even more surprised I did it for Nagito of all people. Well, I guess he did just try to shoot himself. I’m just worried about him a healthy amount. We’re friends, this is normal._ Hajime’s eyes opened. _Wait. We’re friends right?_ He rolled over to stare at Nagito’s sleeping form. _Yeah just friends. Nothing official’s happened. But now that I think about it… It’s not like Nagito would ever have the confidence to ask. So am I supposed to do it? That’s terrifying. We can just stick to messing around for now._ He let an arm fall over Nagito’s side. _He’s asleep and I can’t just say I did it in my sleep tomorrow morning._ Hajime brushed some of Nagito’s hair away from the back of his neck. He kissed him there and then rested his head on the other man’s shoulders, quickly falling asleep.

Nagito, who was very much awake and a surprisingly good sleep actor, opened his eyes. He felt Hajime’s lips brush his skin in Hajime’s sleep and he smiled into the pillow. _Goodnight Hajime._


	4. Penance for Contrition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow, I'm super sorry about how short and weirdly-formatted these last two chapters have been. I wrote the last chap on a bus and this one on a plane. I tried to go through and edit them and proofread and everything, but I know there's still probably some issues so I'm very sorry about that! I am also going to go back and fix the formatting of the last chap because yikes. Thank you guys so much for reading and sticking with the story!! Sorry there about the delay in posting, too!

The morning came and Hajime was suddenly struck with the terrible realization that he’d have to find a way to  _ tell _ Nagito about the strings he’d pulled. He was fairly sure that if he straight up told him, that Nagito would go through one of his self deprecating break downs. He could already hear Nagito’s “Ahah, thank you Hajime but that is much too kind, I’ll have to decline politely because I really don’t deserve-” and he did not want to deal with that. Hajime sighed and tried to concentrate as he listened to Nagito’s breathing next to him.  _ I’ll say it was all just a big coincidence. Yeah. The surgeon just  _ happens _ to be visiting and I mentioned it to my dad and-  _

“Nnh.” Nagito mumbled something in his sleep and Hajime’s train of thought disappeared like sand through his fingers. He watched the white haired man turn over in his sleep, a hand brushing Hajime’s shoulder before he places his head there. Hajime took a hard swallow.  _ I-I, er… I also need to sort out my feelings for him.  _ That was definitely something he was not looking forward to. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hajime came to the conclusion that he’d start a conversation with Nagito somewhere and then find a totally-not-obvious-and-very-smooth segway into talking about his arm and then they’d just  _ happen _ to discuss surgery options and  _ BAM _ , he’d have an op in. 

Nagito was sitting on Hajime’s couch, reading a book, using the side of the couch to stabilize it while he flipped pages with his good hand. Hajime held back a chuckle.  _ I don’t think anyone else in the world could have gotten used to this as fast as Nagito.  _ He took a breath and walked over, sitting across from Nagito.  _ It’s almost scary how quickly he’s adjusted to domestic life at my house. It’s like he’s been here forever and in all honesty, it feels comfortable having him here. Even when my parents visit, there’s still an air of awkwardness but with Nagito, it’s almost like we’re--  _ Hajime’s eyes shot open.  _ Nothing.  _ He tilted his head, trying to read the book cover. “Er, whatcha reading?” He started. His voice felt too loud in the quiet room. Nagito looked up, watching Hajime for a second before he responded. 

“Slaughterhouse Five.” Nagito held up the cover for Hajime to see.  _ Weird book for a weird guy,  _ Hajime figured. 

“That’s, erm, a good book.” He scratched the back of his neck. Nagito flashed an amused look but hid it so quickly that Hajime wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it. Nagito put the book down and faced him. “It’s, uh, y’know… About war and stuff. Uh, which reminds me of…”  _ That is not a smooth segway. Not gonna work.  _ Hajime trailed off, staring into space. Nagito raised an eyebrow, putting considerable effort into not laughing. He waited patiently for Hajime to start up again. “Um, so, like… Surgery is a… Thing.” Hajime wanted to gag himself.

“I-I’m aware.” Nagito’s voice came out in a tumble of breath that could have very easily been a laugh.  _ Why is it so hard to act like a normal human being in front of Nagito? He’s a weird, crazy, little guy and for some reason I act like I’m eleven talking to my crush in front of him. Not that I have a crush on him. It doesn’t matter anyway. “ _ Is there a particular reason you’ve found a recent fascination with surgery?” 

“Uh, kinda.” Hajime took a breath and tried to pull himself together. “I just thought if, y’know, physical therapy won’t work on your arm, then…” 

“Oh.” Nagito’s eyes widened a little. “Oh. I understand, Hajime.”

“You do?” He frowned.

“My arm is so unsightly that you want me to have it amputated, and-”

“Jesus Christ, Nagito,  _ no _ !” Hajime grabbed Nagito’s good hand, which was waving around as he spoke, on instinct. When he realized, he dropped it and instead rubbed his temples. “My dad owns a medical engineering company. One of the surgeons who works with them happens to be in the area soon and I just thought it would be good for him to take a look. Just a second opinion, at least.” Hajime’s words came out fast and each one seemed to surprise Nagito more. Nagito frowned in confusion, staring at the floor. His gaze shifted to his bad arm. He poked it, once. 

“You don’t need to help me.” His voice was quiet. Hajime knew his next words were important, but they escaped his lips before he could make any attempt at thinking over them.

“I know.” 

“Ah.” Nagito’s eyes sparkled. He turned back to his book. “That’s a good idea, Hajime.” His hand trembled as he turned to the next page.  _ I wonder if I still make him nervous. _ Hajime remembered the conversation they’d had so long ago about it. 

The rest of the day went by well, despite being uneventful. Hajime exchanged a few e-mails with his father, agreeing to pick up the surgeon at the airport. “He’s flying in from Switzerland, you better be grateful!” He rolled his eyes at his father’s words. Nagito offered to make dinner since Hajime was busy on his computer, but the idea of him not being able to balance a pot or pan and ruining his other arm was too daunting for Hajime to approach. They agreed on takeout. Afterwards, Nagito went back to his book and Hajime decided to practice. He pulled his violin out of its case and started plucking through the Butterfly absent mindedly while he scanned his folder for the newest orchestra piece. Nagito looked up. 

“You’re playing the Butterfly?” He looked surprised. Hajime blushed, putting down his violin. 

“Yeah. Um, Gundham had it and said I could borrow his music. I just recognized it from you and… Yeah.” Hajime rubbed a random pattern into his arm. “Here.” He pulled his violin back up to his neck, closed his eyes and started playing the full tune. When he was finished, he laughed. “I can see why you like it. It fits your style more than mine I think.” Hajime’s overtly classical style clashed with the jerky, folky style of the tune. By all accounts, it was made for a fiddle player,  _ not  _ a violinist. Nagito smiled. 

“You’re more versatile than you think, Hajime.” Nagito grinned back at him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hajime always seemed to forget how much he hated airports until he got to one. He’d driven, despite Nagito’s best attempts at offering, and he was quickly discovering that even Nagito’s terrible driving would be better than the stress of trying to figure out where the specific gate he needed was. Nagito hadn’t driven since the accident and Hajime was hoping he wouldn’t try to start any time soon. He worried about the guy enough as it was, anyhow. They eventually found the correct gate and Hajime watched a man emerge from the sliding doors and scan the area. He spotted Hajime’s car and approached it. Hajime got out and walked up to him. “Er, Hajime Hinata. Thanks for coming out.” He offered his hand. The other man shook it. 

“Dr. Kokichi Ouma. I’ve heard so much about you.” He had a cocky little grin that he flashed often that Hajime wasn’t sure he liked. “I work closely with your father.” He explained and handed Hajime his luggage, making no attempt at trying to put it in the trunk, himself. Hajime lifted the surprisingly heavy suitcase into his car and opened the door for Kokichi, who was apparently also incapable of doing that for himself, too. “Well, seeing as you have two very functional hands, I’m assuming he’s the man I’m here to see?” Kokichi raised an eyebrow at Nagito as he stepped into the car. Hajime got into the driver’s seat and started driving. 

“I’m Nagito Komaeda.” Nagito turned around to look at Kokichi. They looked each other up and down and some sort of silent understanding passed between them that Hajime hated himself for being jealous of. 

“So, anyways. I’m  _ starving _ so we should get food.” Kokichi was drumming his fingers on the side of his seat. Hajime shrugged and began driving towards a nicer restaurant in the area. The car was terribly silent and it was driving Hajime crazy.  _ This guys is giving me bad vibes and I haven’t even found out what about him makes my dad worried yet.  _ Kokichi started complaining about the flight food, interrupting his train of thought. Nagito nodded along politely as Kokichi started talking about how there was  _ almost _ a hijacking and then how he’d seen some guy get sniffed out for cocaine at security. 

“Wow! Your life is so interesting, Kokichi!” Nagito piped up. Hajime shot him a “ _ you really believe this guy _ ?” look. They pulled into the restaurant and walked inside. Kokichi pulled the waiter aside and talked to them for a quick moment as Hajime watched with a confused expression. The waiter led them to a private room and they sat down. “I didn’t know they had private rooms here.” Nagito looked around. Kokichi pursed his lips.

“Normally, they don’t. Sit down, I want to get a look at your arm.” 

“We could have just done this at my apartment.” Hajime cut in. Kokichi looked him and down.

“And trust your cooking? Yeah, no thanks. It’s like dinner and a show here. Except the show is your boyfriend’s mangled arm. Alright lemme see it already.” Kokichi motioned for Nagito to put his bad arm on the table. He did.

“We’re not boyfriends.” Hajime shook his head.

“Ah. I have a question, then.” Kokichi waited for a nod to continue. “Do you say ‘no homo’ before or after sex?” 

Hajime almost spit out the water in his mouth. He decided not to push the subject. Nagito giggled once, pulling his good arm to his mouth. Kokichi laid out his bad hand and narrowed his eyes at it. “There’s a lot of discoloration, still. You could have some bone marrow oedema. The hospital could have easily overlooked it.” He poked a few spots, watching Nagito’s reaction. “Here hurts?” He asked as Nagito flinched when he happened to brush his fingertips. Nagito nodded.

“It’s like pins and needles, but it gets stronger and stronger.” He mumbled. Kokichi grabbed his fingers and pressed on them sharply. Nagito yelped. 

“Hey! You’re hurting him!” Hajime pushed his chair out, but Kokichi glared at him. 

“Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you have a medical license.” He continued inspecting Nagito’s arm. Kokichi sighed and looked up after a bout of silence. “If it bothers you, you can go wait outside.”

“It’s really fine.” Nagito looked over at Hajime, who sighed in frustration and pushed his chair back in. Kokichi continued looking at the arm a few seconds before a waiter took their orders. Suddenly, Kokichi was much more interested in the food than the arm. It took a reminder from Hajime to bring him back to the topic. 

“Oh. Yeah. Okay, well I need to see some x-rays and I’d like to take a quick look  _ inside _ the arm when I get the chance but I have a pretty good idea of what’s going on.” Kokichi’s food had arrived and he ate as he spoke. “I’ve been working on perfecting my techniques for partial reconstructions and partial implants. I watched a surgery not too long ago where a woman had a shattered bone replaced by a steel replica to regain some movement in the area she’d injured and we might as well try something similar on you.”

“‘Might as well?’” Hajime echoed.

“Eh.” Kokichi shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen? Your arm turns more purple?” He set his knife down and took a sip of the overpriced wine he’d ordered. Hajime gripped his knee to keep his temper in check.

“Kokichi, this is a really serious situation and if you don’t get that-”

“I hate to break it to you, but it can’t really get worse. He can’t feel it. Can’t move it. At this point, it’s just sepsis and phantom pains waiting to happen. You’re a pianist right?” He looked to Nagito, who nodded.

“Yes, Hajime and I play together.” He blinked.

“So I bet losing your arm sucked ass?”  _ Sucked ass?? Is he twelve?  _

“Mhm.” Nagito nodded. “But, if the surgery is a bother, it’s not-”

“We’re doing the surgery.” Hajime and Kokichi looked at each other, surprised to have said the same thing. Nagito just drank some water, his bad hand still lying still on the table. “Hajime, you should go pay.” Kokichi said suddenly.

“Er, I’m pretty sure I pay here at the table-”

“And I’m pretty sure you pay at the front.” Kokichi countered with a flat look. Hajime looked to Nagito.  _ Is he going to be okay here with this crazy guy alone? Well… I guess Nagito’s technically a crazy guy, too.  _ Hajime sighed in annoyance and stood up, heading towards the front of the restaurant. The other two watched him leave the room quietly until he was out of earshot. Kokichi’s eyes suddenly connected with Nagito’s and he crossed his arms on the table. “I know about Junko Enoshima.” 

For a terrible second, everything stopped. The music went quiet and the sound of plates and chatter went dead. Nagito went completely stiff. He could feel his breath in his chest, trying to rush out. “Please don’t-”

“I’m not gonna tell Hajime.” Kokichi leaned back, inspecting his fingernails as he spoke. “I look into all my patients. Even if the records weren’t made public. Are you ever going to tell him? He’ll find out sometime.”

“I… I-I don’t know.” Nagito mumbled. “Some things are difficult to share.” He was toying with his napkin, trying to give his good hand something to do. He felt nerves crawling through him. With them came excitement.  _ Kokichi could expose everything to Hajime _ .  _ He has that power over me now.  _ “Would you tell him?” He looked up. Kokichi blinked in surprise at the response, but got his confidence back quickly. He frowned, deep in thought.

“No.” His face was neutral. 

“Ah.” Nagito smiled bitterly.  _ I’m just waiting until the day Hajime realized what I am. Until the day my jig is up and I have to go back to facing what I’ve done.  _ Hajime came back into the room. 

They drove Kokichi to his hotel and then back home after making arrangements to get the x-rays done soon. “So what do you think?” Hajime asked, eyes focused on the road. He didn’t notice the way Nagito jumped just slightly in his seat. 

“A-ah, I’m very grateful to you-”

“About the surgery.”

“I hope that it works. It’s a beautiful hope that it’s given me.” Nagito stared out the window. Hajime took a breath and nodded, deciding not to comment on Nagito’s even more unusual than normal way of phrasing his response. Nagito was thinking about the conversation they’d had the day afer he’d lost the use of his arm. Hajime had said he’d felt a guilt similar to Nagito’s.  _ Of course he wouldn’t know if it’s similar to mine _ , a prick of annoyance flared up in Nagito.  _ I am a terrible scourge on this Earth. I’m terrible for thinking about how utterly fantastic it would be if Hajime has done something as terrible as me. Then he’d have to forgive me. But Hajime is Hajime. He’s never done something horrendous and when he realizes I have, he’ll-  _ Nagito took a shaky breath. “Hajime?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you… For all of  _ this _ .” Nagito gestured around the car.

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal. My dad’s friend just happens to be in town and-”

“No. I mean everything. No one’s ever had this much interest in being kind to me, before.” Nagito felt a slight burn behind his eyes and he blinked to get rid of it.  _ I’m already mourning my losses.  _ “Of course, I don’t blame them, but- I am happy to have experienced someone caring for me at least this once in my life.” Nagito’s words were rushed, like he was scared that if he didn’t say them fast enough, he wouldn’t get the courage to say them again.

Hajime felt his face burn slightly and he tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Erm, it’s all good. You care about me, too. We’re friends, y’know?” 

“Mm. ‘Friends.’” Nagito echoed, a contented smile spreading across his face. 

 

* * *

 

 

The x-rays revealed even more bone splintering and shards than they’d previously thought. Kokichi explained that the bone shards were shredding at his Nagito’s nerves, causing the burning feeling that came after the pins and needles he got in his fingers. “If you’re ready, then surgery is a go. I’ll contact my team and work from there.” Kokichi said confidently over some paperwork.

“And you’re sure you can do it?” Hajime interjected. Kokichi’s eyes flashed up to his.

“Of course. I’ve done this surgery over four hundred times.”

“You said you’d never done it before.”

“Woops.” He mumbled noncommitedly, turning back to the paperwork. He signed the bottom and then looked up at Nagito. “Are you down, then?”

“Yes.” Nagito’s eyes sparkled as he nodded. Kokichi grinned a grin that was slightly less cocky than his usual smirks. “I’ll set up a date and then contact my team. Recovery is short, about two weeks. Any allergies not listed in your files?”

“No.”

“You’re  _ positive _ you’re not allergic to penicillin?” Kokichi raised an eyebrow. Nagito hesitated, looking genuinely confused as to his own medical histoey. Kokichi sighed and waved an arm. “Yeesh, I’m kidding. You took it a few years ago for your stomach surgery and were fine. Lighten up a bit.” Kokichi handed a document with the surgery information to Nagito.  _ Stomach surgery?  _ Hajime frowned in confusion.  _ He’s never mentioned that to me. And only a few years ago? _ Nagito looked like a deer in the headlights. He laughed nervously and stood up. Hajime followed him to the lobby and Kokichi was close behind. A few spare wheelchairs had been left in the hall and Kokichi moved them aside. “Ah, jeez, someone left a lot of  _ junk _ around here. Junk-oh!” He started humming a little jazz song and Nagito coughed violently. 

“Er, are you okay?” Hajine frowned.

“Of course!” Nagito said too quickly, waving his arms dismissively. Kokichi winked at him discreetly and left. 

“You never told me you’d had stomach surgery.” Hajime put his hands in pockets as they stepped into the brisk air outside. Nagito laughed nervously again and shrugged, a gesture that looked far too casual and normal for him. 

“It wasn’t really  _ surgery _ . I just received some stitches and went on my way.”

“What for?” Hajime started to ask, but Nagito was already getting in the car, making a pointed effort not to look at him. He got in and started it and drove them to his house. He wasn’t sure at what point Nagito had started basically living with him, but he was fairly sure they were roomates at this point. Nagito’s things were slowly migratig to his house, although he did still spend days at his own home, especially when Hajime was at practice.  _ It’s probably too hard for him to see me leave for orchestra when he can’t.  _ Hajime reasoned. He’d been scared leaving Nagito alone at first, after the whole gun fiasco. He still was. But he was fairly sure Nagito had no interest in dying with this new surgery acting as a carrot on a stick for him.  _ I just pray the surgery goes well. Because if it doesn’t, then we’re both in a world of hurt.  _ Hajime didn’t want to think about that outcome. 

The surgery was scheduled for a week out. Five days passed and preparations began. For the day before, Nagito couldn’t take Advil and he wasn’t allowed to eat breakfast that morning. “Why can’t you have Advil? That’s dumb.” Hajime frowned at the information sheet.

“It’s a blood thinner.” Nagito mumbled over the crossword puzzle he was doing. “Henry VIII’s favorite wife for nine letters.” 

“Catherine.” Hajime offered. Nagito nodded gratefully and filled it in. Hajime watched him think over the puzzle, eyes curious and focused. He didn’t realize he was smiling until he rested his chin on his hand and felt it. He’d never anticipated getting a crush on Nagito Komaeda - _ because I’m not!  _ Hajime’s thoughts interruped.  _ He’s just cute sometimes. Doesn’t matter. _ He turned back to the tv show he watching and zoned out. Nagito looked up to ask him for help on another, but he stopped when he saw his eyes focused on the tv. A memory floated to the front of his mind and before he could swallow it down, he was piping up. 

“Hajime?”

“What’s up?”

“Do you believe in love?” He asked innocently. Hajime choked and sat up. He ran a hand through the back of his hair, trying to cover his reaction.

“Er, yeah. I do. Why?”

“Do you think everyone is capable of loving someone else?”

“Everyone?” He thought about it. “Yeah. Again, why?”

“Do you think everyone can be loved?”

Hajime took a breath. “Yes. Definitely.” 

“H-ha. Thank you, Hajime, for entertaining me. I really do love heairng your input on philosophy.” Nagito felt a light, airy feeling in his chest that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. 

There was a pause.

“Are you nervous about the surgery?” Hajime broke the silence. 

“Mm. I have hope.” Nagito shook his head. “It will go well.” He was convincing himself as much as he was assuring Hajime.

“How long before you start piano again?”

“I can play as soon as two weeks after the surgery. Kokichi informed me it would be a month before I have full mobility back, however.” Nagito sounded excited, breathless. The ghost of a smile graced his lips. 

“Do you think you regressed at all? Any atrophy or anything? I’d be bitter about all this time without being able to play.” Their eyes locked. “All this time without hope.” The words were heavy in the air. They were a first for Hajime and even more so, Nagito. Nagito’s good hand fluttered to his mouth and the ghost of a smile grew into a real one.  _ No one has ever understood my intentions like this. No one has ever  _ wanted  _ to understand.  _

“I am not bitter, Hajime. ‘Music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.’” Nagito face was open and happy. “I was able to spend time with you. And learn more about the emotions behind my piano. Now that I have experienced true loss, my musicianship will be much greater, I believe. Pain creates.” Nagito stood up. “I have a long day tomorrow. Goodnight, Hajime.” 

 

* * *

 

 

They met Kokichi at his affiliated clinic. He waited for them and ran through the surgery one last time. “We’re gonna get into your arm, put the bone pieces back together that we can and reinforce the unstable ones with steel plates or screws. Gucci?” 

“ _ ‘Gucci?’ _ ” Hajime choked. 

“The brand?” Nagito frowned in confusion.

“You guys are hopeless, Jesus Christ.” Kokichi rolled his eyes and let one of his nurses start the anesthesia. “It’ll be over before ya’ know it, Champ.” Kokichi patted Nagito on the back once and left the room. Nagito chatted cheerfully with the nurse as they started some sort of IV. His rapid talking started to slow into occasional comments and suddenly, midway through a sentence, he stopped completely. The nurse checked his vitals one last time and pushed his bed towards another room. A different nurse came to get Hajime and show him to the waiting room. 

“Wait, I-” Hajime started.

“Don’t want to be seperated?” 

“Yeah.” Hajime nodded sheepishly. The nurse escorted him to the operating room’s viewing room. 

“You won’t see anything too gory here. I don’t think you can even see the arm from here.” The nurse peeked through the glass. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.” Hajime sighed and took a seat. The nurse was right, he couldn’t see any of the surgery. But he could see Kokichi and his team. Kokichi’s eyes were glistening with concentration, a glint in them that surprised Hajime. He hadn’t taken Kokichi as a very genuine person and seeing him look so genuinely focused was strangely fascinating. It reminded Hajime of the times he’d watched Nagito play piano. For Nagito, there was no one besides him and his piano. For Kokichi, it was just him and his patient.  _ It’s a beautiful thing to watch, really. It’s amazing seeing someone with a talent perform. In a way, this is the same as music.  _

The surgery lasted only an hour or so. When it was done, Hajime was shown to a room where there was space for a hospital bed. Sure enough, in a few moments, Nagito’s bed was pushed through the door. He was still out, looking much more peaceful (and much more quiet) than he ever did in his normal life. Kokichi walked in behind him, pulling off his surgical mask. “Everything went well.” He threw it into the garbage. “The damage was worse than we’d anticipated. Must’ve hurt like hell when it happened. One of his phalanges was practically a powder.”

“I-I don’t need those kind of details.” Hajime mumbled, stomach churning. Kokichi laughed.

“Really? You didn’t strike me as squeamish.” Except his face told Hajime he’d definitely known. “He’ll be out for another ten minutes. When he wakes up, he’ll get some crackers and sprite. Take him home. Twice a day, twelve hours apart, make sure he takes the pain meds we give you. If he starts complaining about his arm, it’s probably swelling. Tell him to deal with it and loosen the bandage. Oh- and you’ll have to clean it. Hydrogen peroxide around the stitches every day. Don’t let him shower with it for a few days. Coolio. Here’s my card if you need anything.” Kokichi handed Hajime a business card. 

“Hey, um, Kokichi?” Hajime called as he turned to leave. Kokichi raised an eyebrow. “I-I… Er, I wanted to thank you. It means a lot that you went to this much work.” 

“Well, your dad’s done a lot for me.” Kokichi’s expression was strangely flat. “I owe your family.” He took a breath and blinked, as if coming to his senses, and suddenly his grin was back. “But I’ll take tips if that’s what you’re offering, or-” Kokichi fell dead silent. Hajime stood up, anxiety coursing through him.  _ Something’s gone wrong. Nagito’s in bad condition. What’s- oh. _

“Hajime! Gundham and Souda are coming by your place tonight, but I wanted to come and see Nagito now. I hope I’m not intruding.” Shuichi was out of breath. Hajime gave him a quick side hug and gestured to where Nagito was. 

“He’s not awake yet. But Kokichi said everything went well, so it should only be a bit until he wakes up. Oh, er, this is Dr. Ouma.” Hajime introduced Kokichi. 

“Hi, I’m Shuichi Saihara, Nagito and Hajime’s director.” Shuichi held out his hand. Kokichi took it and shook it lightly, still frozen with wide eyes. 

“Nice to yeet mou. Shit. Nice to meet you.” Kokichi corrected himself.  _ I’ve never seen Kokichi off his game like this.  _ Hajime watched in amusement.

“Likewise.” Shuichi seemed confused. “It’s amazing you could perform this surgery, it’s really going to change Nagito’s life.”

“Yeah. Definitely. I’m overall pretty talented. I’ve heard I’m great in-” A nurse called for Kokichi and he left the room, looking very grateful for the distraction. 

“I’ll check him out and then we can head to my house.” Hajime nodded to Shuichi. “I just want to wait until he wakes up.” 

“Do you think drugged Nagito will be weirder or more normal than his usual self?” Shuichi laughed. Hajime smiled.

“I’m a little nervous to find out.” They waited together for a little while until Shuichi excused himself to use the bathroom. Hajime leaned closer to Nagito, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath.  _ The last time I saw him like this, he was waking up to the worst loss I can imagine. This time, he’s waking up to having it all back.  _ That sentiment gave Hajime some warmth. His gaze flitted to Nagito’s eyes.  _ He has really long eyelashes.  _ He blinked.  _ It’s crazy that they’re as light as his hair. _ Suddenly, those lashes Hajime was watching fluttered. Nagito blinked groggily and tilted his head. 

“Hmm.” He hummed and then yawned. “Oh wow. Hajime.” His good hand reached out and poked Hajime’s cheek. Hajime flinched away and laughed. “You’re so far away.” He whined.

“Hey, take it easy.” He watched in amusement as Nagito tried to lift the straw in his Sprite to his mouth and failed five seperate times, missing his mouth each attempt. He finally reached over and did it for Nagito. 

“You’re the best, Hajime. So wonderful. Just like this Sprite. Phenomenal.” Nagito sighed happily. “And you’re attractive. And you’re nice to me. I love talking to you, Hajime. Every time I wake up and you’re there, it’s like -wow!- Christmas.” Nagito giggled. Hajime felt his face flush. Nagito was usually…  _ erratic _ , but the drugs made him somehow even more manic. Nagito’s eyes suddenly went wide. He rubbed at his eyes and when he pulled his hand away, he was just as surprised as Hajime to find them wet. He stared in confusion. Hajime wiped the tears from his eyes and leaned forward.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was audibly concerned. Nagito’s mouth drew into a tight line and then he smiled, looking almost a little sad. 

“I love you?” It came out like a question. Hajime felt as though someone had just slapped a dumbells across his face. He blinked, frozen in shock.  _ Nagito… Likes me?  _ Loves  _ me? I’d always assumed everything he said was just a weird fascination or Nagito being Nagito or him being damaged and clinging to me because we got close. Maybe that’s all it is, I guess. I doubt Nagito has the right vocabulary for feelings like that. Especially not without his piano. But… I- _

“Um.” Shuichi had returned to find a teary Nagito and a frozen Hajime. 

“Er. It’s the, uh, drugs I think.” Hajime said quickly. “I’m gonna check him out, will you stay with Nagito?” Hajime glanced to Nagito, who was excitedly inspecting the ingredients list of his hospital sanctioned animal crackers. Shuichi nodded and took one of the chairs. Hajime took a deep breath and left the room. He leaned against the wall outside.  _ That’s… A lot to unpack. Too much.  _ He straightened up and headed for the lobby. He checked Nagito out, but just as he started towards the room again, a small hand grabbed his arm with a surprising strength. “Kokichi?” He whirled around.

“You didn’t tell me your director… Erm. Looked like…  _ that _ .” Kokichi muttered.

“Like what?” Hajime was confused. To his knowledge, Shuichi wasn’t especially weird looking or anything. Certaintly not enough to warrant Kokichi’s reaction. 

“God, you’re thick.” Kokichi groaned. “Forget it. Tell him I’ll be in the area awhile.” He waved a goodbye to Hajime and went on his way, white coat billowing out behind him. Hajime found the room and with Shuichi’s help, got Nagito to the car.  _ It’s like herding cats. Except the cats are almost six feet tall, get distracted by everything shiny, and have broken arms.  _ He got him in the car and waited for Shuichi to get in, too. He started driving home. Shuichi started a few conversations with Nagito about different subjects, all of them making Hajime and Shuichi laugh uproariously at Nagito’s responses. When they got in the door, Hajime sat Nagito on the couch and he almost instantly fell asleep. Hajime woke him up to take his medication and then he was out again. Gundham and Souda came by later, as promised. The four of them played cards next to Nagito’s sleeping body for a bit until Gundham had to leave for a horror movie with Sonia, while Souda begged to let him come, too. Shuichi said a goodbye to Hajime and then it was just Nagito and Hajime again. Hajime drifted to sleep on the floor next to the couch. 

Nagito didn’t wake until the next morning. He stretched and yawned. Hajime startled awake and breathed a sigh of relief, seeing him awake. “How are you feeling?” Hajime rubbed his eyes groggily. Nagito smiled.

“My arm hurts.” He said happily. Hajime smiled back.

“Good.” He laughed. He couldn’t imagine any other time he’d be glad to hear about searing pain in a friend’s arm. “How’s it feel to have an arm again? Better?”

“Much better.” Nagito sounded calm for the first time in a long while. “Thank you very much for coming with to my surgery.”

“Well I wasn’t going to let you go  _ alone _ .” Hajime stood up and shook out his limbs. “I’ll make breakfast. Can you keep food down?”

“Best not to risk it.” Nagito frowned. 

“Good point. Juice okay?” Hajime started to walk into the kitchen and pour glasses of juice for the two of them.  _ I’m not gonna just eat in front of him. I’ll have juice, too.  _ He decided and brought it back to the living room for Nagito, along with his next dose of pain meds. “Here, take this.”

Nagito took the pill with some of his juice and set it back down on the table. “Hajime, there is something I wanted to inform you of.” Nagito took an unsteady breath. “I have been thinking of returning to my hometown for my recovery and staying in my house there. I think it may be good for me to go ‘back to my roots’ as they say. I also haven’t visited in a very long time and I fear if I don’t do it soon, then I won’t muster up the courage at any other time.” 

“Um. You don’t need any help with your medications or anything? Are you sure you’re okay?” Hajime frowned.

“Ah, yes. I lived alone for many years, it’s never been a problem.”  _ You didn’t have surgery then, though.  _ “I won’t leave for a few days, until I am fit to take the train there. I’m not supposed to drive on pain meds. What a shame.” Nagito shrugged.  _ Not a shame, really, Nagito. Actually, it’s a major blessing to my peace of mind that you can’t drive right now.  _

“That’s a long bus ride, didn’t you say you lived like three hours away?” Hajime finished his juice and stood up to take the glass back to the kitchen. Nagito nodded, taking another sip.

“Oh well.” He seemed unbothered. “I can’t leave for another two weeks, anyway. Hajime, don’t you have a practice right now?” Nagito’s eyes flitted to the clock on the stove. Hajime swore under his breath. 

“Er, yeah, but I’m sure that Shuich’ll understand why I’m not there.”

“You’ve had enough absences on my behalf, go ahead to work. I’ll still be here when you get back.”  _ Well yeah, but hopefully in one piece.  _ Hajime just smiled nervously back at him. 

“Er, okay. If you’re one hundred percent sure.” Hajime put his glass in the sink and went to his room to get dressed.  Nagito watched him leave with a blank expression. He yawned. His medication made him tired. It probably figured most people would want to sleep through the pain Nagito’s felt in his arm, like a strange, chalky ache that felt as though someone had taken a hammer to his arm. He wanted to feel it, though. It was the first real sensation he’d had in it since the initial injury and pain or not  _ it’s a beautiful thing _ . Nagito’s mind revelled in the pain. He set his juice down on the table and leaned on his side, pulling one of Hajime’s pillows underneath his head.  _ I’ll just rest my eyes for a second. I won’t even sleep, just… rest. _ It was hard to try and oppose the medication’s effects and Nagito knew as well as anyone that self control wasn’t his strong suit. 

A few moments later, he heard Hajime re enter the room and spot him. He felt Hajime pat his head affectionately and mumble something before the sound of the front door opening and closing took his place. He fell into a deep sleep. 

However, he didn’t sleep for long. An hour or so later, someone knocking at the front door awoke Nagito. He sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes, heading for the door and opened it. Hajime was standing outside. “Hey Nagito.” His face was calm. Nagito smiled and opened the door for him to come in. He rubbed some more sleep from his eyes and turned around to face Hajime. His eyes went wide. The couch he’d been sleeping on was covered in a thick layer of blood. He gasped, taking a step back. His gaze flashed sharply to his hands, but to his surprise, they were both covered in blood, not just his bad arm. 

“Hajime?” He whimpered, a nervous feeling crawling its way through his chest and out his throat, its claws tearing at his insides. Hajime turned around and faced Nagito. His expression was a clever one, Nagito realized. It was so disgusted that Nagito didn’t even notice the knife Hajime had picked up from the table. Hajime’s gaze turned behind Nagito. Nagito  _ knew _ what he could see back there, but he didn’t dare turn around. He couldn’t face it. Not again.  _ No please, not Hajime. Please I don’t want this. I’ll die for real this time, just let Hajime go- _

“You… You did this?” Hajime took a step away from Nagito. 

“No!” Nagito tried to assure him, but as he walked towards Hajime, the other man retreated, fear plain on his face. “I-I just…” His shoulders slumped. He remembered how hard it was to explain something to someone when you don’t know how it happened in the first place. Nagito’s cellphone on his table rang, tinny and loud in the quiet room. The ringtone playing was La Campanella. Nagito retched, pulling his good arm to his face and curling up behind the table.  _ I can’t do this again. I can’t do this again.  _ His hands shook violently as he picked up the phone and brought it to his face. As it grew closer, he could smell the sickly sweet, metallic scent of blood and he retched again. “Hello?” He waited for a response but there was none. He froze. Looked up. Hajime was standing over him. “You’re not Hajime.” He realized out loud. 

“No, I’m not.” It was  _ her _ voice. Nagito scrambled backwards and - 

  
  


He woke up, chest heaving and legs trembling. Nagito’s eyes darted around the apartment. No blood. No Junko. Only the gnawing cocktail of anxiety and guilt was left from his dream. He sat up, drank the rest of his juice, and put his head in his hands.  _ This is a sign I need to go home soon.  _ He straightened up, fluffed his pillow out, and went back to bed. 

 

* * *

 

Almost a week went by where Nagito did little more than sleep and eat occasionally. Hajime had been worried at first, but a few calls to Kokichi told him it was more than normal. He’d left one morning for practice, leaving a coffee on the counter for Nagito. Sometimes the thought of waking Nagito up when he was in pain worried Hajime, because he knew the pain wouldn’t be enough to convince Nagito to go back to sleep and he was sure pain couldn’t be  _ good _ for him. 

Hajime drove to practice and took his seat across from Gundham, who was playing something on his cello with a bored expression. He could see Souda running around the back of the room, trying to cover for a percussionist who was gone that. Watching him try to play xylophone and cymbals was amusing enough to elicit a laugh from Hajime. Practice went by smoothly with no hiccups or grave mistakes and Hajime drove home. He parked in front of his apartment and started walking up the steps. He opened the door and stepped inside. Hajime stopped.  _ I must’ve left the radio on. Poor Nagito, he’s got a headache from all his medication and I leave the radio on this loud? Woops.  _ Hajime sighed and set down his violin, walking towards his study. He didn’t recognize the song playing. It was a simple folk song, similar to the Butterfly.  _ Strange choice for the radio.  _ An off chord rang through the hall, follow by a frustrated noise. 

The music stopped. 

Hajime dropped his music folder and threw open the door to his study. Nagito was sitting inside at the keyboard, trying desperately to get his left pinky to cooperate with a Bmaj chord. A giddy feeling swelled inside of Hajime and he laughed happily. “ _ Nagito _ … you’re  _ playing _ . Oh my God, you’re playing piano!” He rushed into the room. Nagito jumped at first and then turned around. His eyes were rimmed red. He nodded cheerfully. 

“I’ve been playing all morning! I didn’t feel tired today so I thought I should try and then it started to hurt, but I could still feel my fingers so I could play and… Well, obviously I can’t play anything of substance yet, but….” Nagito trailed off, bright eyes focusing first on the piano and then on Hajime’s beaming face. “I’m very happy, Hajime.” His smile was contagious. Everything felt light and airy suddenly. 

“You should be.” Hajime ruffled his hair and pulled him into a hug.  _ This is happier than I felt when we won the national competition.  _ Hajime realized with a start.  _ I care more about Nagito than I care about my success. I haven’t felt that strongly about anyone since Chiaki.  _ HIs mind wandered back to the day of the surgery and Nagito’s drugged love confession.  _ It was probably nothing. He was hopped up on anesthesia and pain killers, I shouldn’t act like an idiot about this- _ “Hey, Nagito?”

“Yes, Hajime?” Nagito tilted his head a bit of his hair fell into his face, over his clear eyes. Hajime’s heart fluttered in his chest like a tiny bird.  _ I’m gonna act like an idiot about this _ . He decided, fully realizing he’d never had a choice in the matter. 

“Um, would you be maybe, uh, ever interested in going out sometime?”

“Don’t we do that most nights?” Nagito frowned.  _ AHH. Even I’m not this hopeless.  _

“I mean, like, y’know, um, a date.” Hajime rushed his words out. Nagito froze, confusion clear on his face.  _ This was a bad idea, why did I do this? _ Hajime’s mind wondered, but his mouth kept moving without him controlling it. “Er, like boyfriends. And romance. All that-”

“I know what a date is, Hajime.” Nagito frowned dryly.  _ He’s angry. Yep, he is  _ pissed.  _ I just ruined this great moment and possibly our friendship because I listened to my dick instead of my head. Well, actually my heart -oh Jesus, that’s sappy. Shut up, Hajime.  _ “I don’t understand why.” Nagito finally said after his agonizing silence. Hajime took a breath.  _ Well everything’s out in the open, anyway, I might as well just be honest.  _

“Um, well frankly I’ve had feelings for you for awhile and I think we work well together. We do everything together, anyway, so it’s not like dating would be that weird. I dunno. Seriously, forget it.”

“You… want to go out with  _ me?” _ Nagito’s eyebrows tilted down. 

“That was the idea, yeah.”  _ At least for once, I’m not the clueless one.  _

“But you’ve seen me when I’m useless and you know I have a terrible secret, that you don’t even know. There’s nothing to gain from me besides sex and partnership and I’m already your music partner and willing to perform any sort of-”

“There’s more than that.” Hajime sighed.

“Really?” Nagito sounded surprised. Hajime nodded. 

“If you’re so worried about that damn secret, then you can just tell me what it is. I’m hardly in a place to judge.” Hajime was getting frustrated. Nagito smiled thinly. 

“You’d be surprised, Hajime.”  He sounded bitter with himself. There was a thick silence in the room that was driving Hajime up the wall. He wished he could take back his words. “Come with me to my hometown and then decide if you still want to be with me.” Nagito looked up and met his gaze.  _ What is he talking about? Is he finally going to tell me what his big secret is or what? _ Hajime took a deep breath and agreed to Nagito’s little game.  _ Sometimes I forget that everything has to be a game with him.  _

“And what are you going to do if I’m still fine with dating you? Find some other flaw to pick on until I give up?” Hajime raised an eyebrow. Nagito laughed once.  _ Ah, he sees through me too easily.  _ He thought. Nagito found a sick satisfaction with knowing that Hajime would soon no longer want to be associated with him, anymore. He knew he would regret it and he knew he’d be bitter with himself when he finally managed to convince Hajime that he wasn’t worth the effort - _ because I’m not.  _ But it felt so good to finally being so close to having someone see him for what he truly was.  _ Maybe this will be the punishment that finally makes my guilt fade. Swallow my contrition.  _ He took a shaky breath of relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg sorry I keep leaving everyone hanging on the whole secret thing, it'll get resolved I PROMISE!! But at least they're finally acknowledging their feelings and stuff. Thank you so much for reading and have a nice day!


	5. Safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this. I hope you all enjoy the chapter and thank you so much for reading! Have a nice day <3

When enough time had passed for Nagito to be in a good enough post-op condition to travel, Hajime began packing to stay at his house with him. He remembered Nagito mentioning it was about three hours away, which while not terrible, was still a bit of a drive, he figured. If when they were first working together Hajime had been invited to Nagito’s house, he would have been terrified. Maybe a month ago he would have been just excited to learn more about the chaos that was Nagito. Now, all that was on his mind was finding out  _ what _ Nagito could have done that would make him feel so guilty. In all honesty, Hajime was fairly sure it wouldn’t be  _ that _ bad.  _ Nagito’s moral system is fucked and he builds up so much guilt over every little thing. I’ll bet he did something dumb and he’s just made it into something bigger.  _

_ But what if it’s not? _

Hajime’s brain paused. He stared down at the shirt he was packing.  _ What if it’s something genuinely terrible? Something so fucking horrific that even I can’t deal with it? Even with my own guilt?  _ It felt like someone had poured an iced drink down Hajime’s back. He blinked, taking in a deep breath and tucking the shirt away.  _ I guess it’s a touch and go sort of thing.  _ If Nagito’s big secret was something so terrible that Hajime couldn’t work around it, then he’d just drop Nagito like’d he’d known he could do since the day they started working together.  _ Except Nagito didn’t basically live with me, then. And Nagito hadn’t sucked my dick. And I hadn’t tried and failed to confess my fucking feelings for him, yet.  _ Hajime packed his next shirt more aggressively, his emotions spilling out through his hands. 

“Is everything alright, Hajime?” A boyish voice startled him. 

“ _ Shit! _ ” Hajime hissed, whirling around. He sighed in relief seeing Nagito behind him. He put a hand to his heart. “Ah Jesus, I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Ah. Apologies. I’ve been told that I do that.”

“Do what? Sneak up on people?” Hajime frowned. Nagito just nodded. “Er, alright. Well, after I get these last things packed, I’m ready. Are you?” He went back to packing as he spoke. 

“It’s my house. I have everything there, already.” Nagito looked confused.  _ Ah,  _ Hajime laughed awkwardly. 

“Forgot about that. Forgot it’s… your house.”  _ Why am I acting like such a dipshit? Calm down, Hajime.  _ His mind had been reeling since he’d asked Nagito out. He was pretty sure it would be until he got a concrete answer from Nagito. Something told him that was going to be difficult, however. Nagito squirmed around set things like a cat around water. 

 

* * *

 

 

The drive there was awkward, silent, and tense. Halfway through, Hajime couldn’t take it anymore and he grabbed the aux cord from the dash and shoved it in Nagito’s general direction, too worried to take his eyes off the road now that he knew the consequences of a car crash first hand. “Erm… You’re trusting me to choose the music?” Nagito sounded surprised. Hajime shook the cord, hoping Nagito would take it from his hands, already. 

“Yep. Just play something.”

“... Okay.” Nagito plugged his phone in. There were a few more seconds of silence before-

“Is this… um, Gregorian chanting _? _ ” Hajime choked out.   _ I don’t know what the fuck I was expecting from him.  _ Nagito simply nodded from the passenger seat. “Erm, so do you… normally, uh, listen to…  _ this _ when you drive?”

“I don’t normally listen to music when I drive. I get distracted too easily when I drive.” Nagito mumbled. 

“Uh, yeah. My parents didn’t let me play music when I got my first car for awhile.” Hajime realized the slight implication he’d just made. “Not that I think you’re a kid or anything! Um, I’m sure you’re completely capable of driving  _ great _ and er-”

“Hajime, if I was a capable driver we wouldn’t have gone through the last few months.” Nagito laughed dismissively. 

“I’m sure the accident wasn’t your fault. And even if it was, it was just a mistake. You were the only hurt, right? So either way, it’s uh, good. I think.” Hajime scratched his arm while he drove. “What even happened in the accident? You never told me.”

Nagito hesitated. “It wasn’t… technically my fault, but if had been more…  _ observant _ then I don’t think the accident would have happened.” He was fidgeting in his seat. “Ahah, it was simply bad luck.” Nagito sounded almost desperate, though Hajime wasn’t sure for what. 

“So how close are we? To your house, I mean.”

“We are close. Take your next right turn.” Nagito turned to watch the scenery pass by the window. 

“You said you lived by a casino, right? We could go there.” Hajime offered. “I’m not really a great gambler, but er, you said you used to be a croupier, so you’re probably pretty good at cards, I’m guessing.” 

“You remember that?” Nagito sounded surprised. He stopped fidgeting. “I used to find it difficult to be in my house too much during the summers when I would come home.” Nagito’s voice was gentler, quieter. “I didn’t have school or college to distract me. I’ve always enjoyed cards. It seemed like a good idea. I’m not sure I would be able to, anymore.” Nagito glanced down at his bad hand. “Although I am hopeful that will change soon enough.”

“Yeah. I am, too.”

“It is exciting to see you have hope, Hajime.”

“Er, thanks.” He was a little confused at the comment, but decided not to push it. “Is this the driveway?” He pointed to a mailbox with the right address. Nagito nodded and he pulled in, immediately surprised at how long it was. After what felt like several minutes, they reached a large house surrounded by forest. “This is yours?” He couldn’t hide the note of surprise in his voice. 

“Yes?” Nagito tilted his head. “I haven’t been here since the accident so it’s a mess, please accept my apologies, but-”

“No, wow. It’s a nice house. Really nice. Jeez.” Hajime parked the car. He walked around to the trunk and pulled his suitcase out. “I’m not intruding, right? Like, you’re fine with me staying here with you?”

“This house has been empty for too much time. It will be refreshing to have someone as bright as you here.” Nagito unlocked the front door. “I rent it out when I’m not staying here to old friends of my parents. But no one’s been here since the accident. I wasn’t… focused enough at the time to manage the renting.” He laughed nervously and let the door swing open. The inside was just as nice and surprisingly large as the outside.  _ I can’t believe Nagito’s had this house and I’ve never even seen it, before. It’s even nicer than his house back home.  _ Hajime looked around. “Here, come upstairs and set your bag down.” Nagito started up the steps and Hajime followed, lugging his suitcase behind him. Nagito passed by the first door at the top of the stairs and pushed open the second. “If you’re alright sharing a room with me, I sleep here.” He said with a straight face, even though Hajime was telling himself it had to be a joke. 

“Nagito… we practically live together. We sleep in the same room almost every night.” He frowned. Nagito laughed hoarsely. 

“It’s one thing to temporarily be forced to share a space with me, it’s another to be smothered by my presence in my home.”

“‘Smothered by your presence?’” Hajime echoed, even though he was pretty sure he understood what Nagito was trying to convey to him. He sighed. “I’m not ‘forced’ to spend time with you. Remember, like, a week ago when I tried to tell you I was into you?”

“Ah, yes! I’ve been doing some research and I think what you’re experiencing might be some sort of Nightingale syndrome. Because I am so weak and vulnerable and you are a moral person, you feel a need to care for me even though I’m insufferable and your caring for me has tricked you into thinking you enjoy spending time with me and-”

“We’re not doing this right now.” Hajime cut him off, putting his suitcase on the dresser. “It’s not a  _ syndrome  _ to want to get to know you for God’s sake.”

“Hm.” Nagito didn’t sound confident in Hajime’s words. “I don’t understand why, Hajime. At the beginning, you were nervous around me, too.” Nagito looked away. “ _ That _ made sense. I wanted to get close to you, I didn’t want to try and drag you to my depths.”

“But… you  _ said _ … after your surgery, you told me you loved me.” Hajime didn’t realize his words until they were out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to tell Nagito about that. It felt like a strange invasion of privacy telling him, even though they were his own words. Hajime knew Nagito wasn’t Nagito, he was a constructed mask picked out by Nagito, each word that left his mouth going through a heavy filtration system. While it didn’t seem like that because of Nagito’s inherent awkwardness, it was something Hajime had become sure of. The Nagito after surgery had been a version of himself that he had no control over. A version he couldn’t censor. Nagito stared at him with wide eyes, slight color fanning out over his pale cheeks. He coughed. 

“ _ Hajime _ ,” That desperation was back in his voice, this time even needier. His eyes were begging Hajime to understand something that he knew he wouldn’t find in their depths. “There is a… difference,” Nagito was lilting on every word, pulling the syllables out of his mouth like they were painful. Like they were never supposed to leave his mouth. They both knew he was treading on dangerous ground. “There is a difference between what I want and what I know is possible.” His voice was empty. Hajime wanted to correct him and tell him that he had a genuine interest in Nagito, that their time together genuinely meant something. But he didn’t know how. Even more than that, he knew that if he had those words by some grace of God, that they would never reach Nagito. The little invisible walls he’d built up around himself would tear them down before Hajime even got the chance to explain anything. There was a silence that neither of them dared breach for a few moments before Nagito started downstairs. Hajime followed, not sure what else to do. He saw Nagito’s bad hand reach for the railing of the staircase and for a moment, he felt pride in seeing him finally being able to move it again.  _ He’s using it reflexively like a real hand again, this is really great.  _ Then, he remembered what he’d made sure to pack and he sighed.  _ I hate saying this as much as Nagito.  _

“Nagito,” He called and the other man turned around. “We haven’t cleaned your stitches in like, two or three days. You’re gonna get an infection.” 

Nagito’s shoulders tensed up visibly. His hand above the railing hovered there. “It’s a shame we left the supplies at home and there’s nowhere around here that sells medical-”

“I packed the cleaning solution, Nagito. I’m not an idiot.”

“Haha, of course you aren’t, Hajime.” He trudged back up the stairs, laughing in a way that seemed forced. 

“Listen, I seriously hate this as much as you do, but like I said, if we don’t, you could risk losing it all over again, yeah?” Hajime turned back to their room and rummaged through his suitcase for the alcohol solution, cotton swabs, and cleaning pads. Nagito sat on the bed, inspecting the bandage around his hand. When Hajime turned back around towards the bed, he sighed heavily and began unwrapping it, folding the bandage nicely to his side and presenting the arm to Hajime. “Y’know, I’m impressed you can watch me clean it. It’s not even my arm and I get squeamish doing it.” Hajime said absent-mindedly before realizing that  _ definitely sounded like an insult, shit.  _ Nagito just shrugged. 

“I’m forcing you to clean it, I should at least have the stomach to watch.” Nagito winced slightly when the cotton swab connected with the first scar. 

“You’re not  _ forcing _ me. It’s not like you’d be able to do this on your own.” Hajime dragged it up the stitches, trying to scrub away the dried blood and iodine stains from around the wound. He bumped a stitch and Nagito’s eyes widened slightly. “ _ Sorry _ !” He mumbled, wincing on his own. “Er, can you feel it?”

“The metal? Or the stitches?” Nagito frowned at the arm. He did his best to flex his fingers. They trembled and his pinky (which Kokichi had told him was the finger that took the most damage) only twitched slightly in response. He could feel the new metal parts in his arm. They’d hurt at first, feeling as though they were grating against his bone and tissue, but he was becoming used to them. Now, he only felt them if his arm bumped into something with more force than usual. “Hardly.” He finally decided on answering.  _ Hajime doesn’t need to know if it’s unpleasant or not. Besides, complaining about it at this point would be ungrateful. It’s only through him that I even have an arm, anymore.  _ He watched Hajime clean the wound in silence, trying to control his wincing and stop his breath from hitching. There was a slight sting but it didn’t bother him. It was simply  _ feeling _ the wrongness of the stitches and the metal that bothered him when Hajime cleaned the scars. Most times, his brain would force itself to forget that his arm was only partially the tissue it was supposed to be, but when he was forced to confront it so head on, his brain would lapse for a moment and his body would have to come to terms with the feeling of something so foreign and strange invading his arm. 

_ I should distract him. _ Hajime thought to himself, glancing around for something to start a conversation with. His eyes fell on the window, where he could see water. “So you live on a lake, did you boat growing up?”

“Yes, but it was more my father than me.” Nagito didn’t seem fazed by the sudden change in conversation. “When you’re out in the middle of a lake or the ocean, you realize how insignificant you are. My father loved knowing there was a world besides his own. I didn’t.” Nagito mumbled his words, eyes still trained on his arm. “Insignificance terrifies me.”

“Yeah. Me, too. It’s part of why I went into music.” Hajime nodded. He used to think  _ if I’m famous, then I’ve made some sort of impact. I’m special. People will remember me.  _

“You shouldn’t be afraid of it. You’re very significant.” Nagito finally looked away from his arm and made eye contact with Hajime. “Does your family have a boat?”

“Er, no. My dad’s business didn’t take off until the last ten years or so. Most of my childhood he was too busy to really do that kind of stuff with us. I guess he could buy one now, but I can’t imagine coming back to use it or my mom going out on her own in it.” Hajime shrugged. “Your dad was home growing up, then?”

“For the most part. We inherited our wealth, he never had to work hard for it.”

“Were you close with him?”

“I was… never very close with my parents. We were content with each other, I suppose. Comfortable. But there was never a deeper understanding. I wish there had been. I think I may have been a better person if there had been.” Nagito’s eyes flitted to the doorway, as if someone was there. Hajime followed his gaze but saw no one. “This house has a lot of memories of them.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Hajime finished cleaning his stitches and started cleaning up the swabs. Nagito began quickly rolling up his bandage back over his arm. “I don’t have any food for dinner here. I keep clothes and personal belongings here, but food seems like a bad idea.”

“Well yeah, you’re not here very often.” Hajime threw away the cleaning supplies. “Is there a grocery store around?”

“Mm.” Nagito nodded back. “I feel bad making you drive us everywhere, Hajime. I can drive-”

“Er, let’s not do that.” Hajime shook his head. “Have you, erm, driven since the accident?”

“... No.”

“I really don’t mind driving, it’s kinda cathartic. Just, er, lead the way!” Hajime pointed towards the door. He followed Nagito to the car and then let him direct him to the nearest grocery store. The parking lot was almost empty. “Er, it’s kinda… deserted.” He remarked, parking the car. 

“It’s off season.” Nagito frowned, like it was obvious. At Hajime’s silence, he explained. “We’re a destination town in the summer, for boating and vacation homes. But right now, it’s too cold to boat anywhere, so most people are at their other houses.” He pushed the store door open. There were a few people inside but not many. “I’m not much of a cook. In fact, I’m rather terrible, but I can cook since you’re a guest in my home-”

“Let’s just, er, get something easy.” Hajime pointed Nagito towards what looked to be the frozen dinner aisle. 

“I’m sorry I’m a terrible host-”

“I eat microwave dinners most night, Nagito. I really don’t care.” He reached in front of him to grab some dinners from a refrigerated shelf. 

“Well, at least I’ll get some dessert for us.” Nagito sighed, walking towards the bakery section. Hajime followed closely behind him. He waited while Nagito looked through the options. A woman and her husband passed by them, when they caught sight of Hajime, they both slowed down, staring blatantly. Hajime fidgeted.  _ What the hell? _ She whispered something to her husband and he nodded, a hint of fear on his face. Hajime leaned over to Nagito. 

“Am I, uh, not welcome here?” He asked under his breath. Nagito straightened up and glanced behind himself to see the couple. “Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Towa, how are you?” He smiled cheerfully. 

“Er, good.” The husband said after a pause. “We should get going.”

“Say hello to your kids for me!” He waved a goodbye as they left. He turned to Hajime with a suddenly more serious look. “They weren’t looking at you, Hajime.  _ I _ ’m not welcome here.” He smiled bitterly. Hajime wanted to question those words and find the meaning behind them, but something told him he’d just hit a brick wall if he tried. They checked out and returned home. Hajime started microwaving his dinner, feeling a little strange making a tv dinner in such an elaborate kitchen. It looked like it had never been used, and considering Nagito’s dislike for cooking, it probably hadn’t been for quite some time. “Would you like some wine, Hajime? I’m sorry, it’s all I have.” Nagito emerged from somewhere with a bottle of red and a bottle of white. Hajime shrugged. 

“Why not?” He watched Nagito grab two glasses and pour the wine into them. When Nagito was done, he grabbed the bottle and inspected it. “Er, are you sure we should drink this right now? This is really nice wine.” He frowned at the label. Nagito shrugged. 

“It’s not like I’m going to drink it on my own.”

“Well, I’m sure you have other guests. Or family. Or someone who would not be a waste of this.” Hajime raised an eyebrow. Nagito’s look told him differently. He took a breath. “Alright. Okay.” He took a sip of wine.  _ I wonder how many years it would take knowing Nagito to fully understand him. I imagine I’d be able to learn the world’s hardest violin song in half the time.  _ “So… how’s your…” Hajime trailed off, trying to change the subject. 

“I believe the packaging said they were chicken strips.” Nagito frowned thoughtfully. He picked one up with his fork and stared at it. “They’re not atrocious, like-”

“ _ Don’t _ finish that sentence. Please.” Hajime sighed in frustration. Nagito laughed in response. It was a genuine laugh and despite the situation that created it, Hajime felt the sound warm his heart slightly. When they finished eating, Hajime asked Nagito to see his original piano that he had mentioned the first time Hajime had gone to his house. He led him to a room downstairs and pushed open the door. 

“She’s not very elaborate and it’s not as if I can play well on her anymore, but… That’s life, I suppose.” Nagito stared disdainfully at the piano. It was a simple, wooden, upright piano. 

“Well you can try.” Hajime attempted. 

“You have too much faith in me.” He sighed, sitting at the bench. “I can’t play anything difficult.” He warned, lifting the fallboard and exposing the keys. He thought for a moment, eyes skipping over the keys like he was playing a song in his head, before he finally lifted his hands over them. “Ah.” He mumbled, like he’d remembered something. His right hand started moving before his left, beginning on a B note. Hajime recognized the tune from the first three notes. The Butterfly. A measure passed without chords. Nagito pursed his lips and his left hand began moving, as well. The accompaniment was a bit off time, trailing slightly behind where Hajime knew Nagito could normally play and there were a few off notes and pauses in them, but all in all, it was the Butterfly. It was an entire piece of piano music, with notes and chords and everything that the two of them had feared Nagito would never be able to do again. “I can’t tell you what a comfort it is to have music, again, Hajime. Thank you.”

“Why’re you thanking  _ me _ ?” Hajime frowned, taking a seat on the piano bench next to Nagito.  _ He can’t know that I called my dad about him, can he? I made sure to be careful.  _ He shifted to the side to avoid getting in Nagito’s way while he played. 

“It was through your connection that I was able to get this surgery. I’ve looked into Kokichi, his next reconstruction has a waiting list of two years and over one hundred people willing to pay even more than what I can.” Nagito fell silent, staring at his hands play. He was using the keys as his security blanket, again. He was thankful that he could. The music stopped and he looked at Hajime. “Where did the money come from?”

“Er, what?” Hajime stalled. 

“I was never charged. There are people willing to pay millions for Kokichi. I know you don’t have millions in wait of wasting. Who paid for my surgery?” Nagito’s eyes were stormy in a way Hajime didn’t want to venture into. A twinge of anger that Hajime hadn’t been expecting to feel shot through him. 

“Do you really  _ want _ to know, Nagito? Really?” He refuted, raising an eyebrow. Nagito’s gaze was suddenly cold. 

“Forgive my denseness, Hajime, but I don’t know what you mean.” Nagito’s voice was quiet but clear. Hajime resisted the urge to drop the subject and responded, doing his best to keep his voice even. 

“If someone besides you had paid for it, would you forgive yourself?” Hajime let the question hang in there, resenting every second of meaningful silence that followed. Nagito gritted his teeth in frustration. “Don’t force me to hurt you, too, Nagito. That’s not fair to either of us. You want me to tell you just so that I can be the person that hurts you with the  _ terrible _ truth that someone cares about you. I’m right, aren’t I?” Hajime watched Nagito take a shaky breath. 

“What is that you want, Hajime?” Nagito asked, his voice almost sounding angry. 

“I want to know what you want from me.” He responded quickly, surprising himself with the words. The coldness left Nagito’s eyes, replaced instead with a shattered vulnerability that scared Hajime. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so far into the depths of someone with a single look. He remembered all the times he’d wished he understood what Nagito held back in the green waters of his eyes and now that he had his first true glance, he regretted it. He suddenly noticed the dark circles under Nagito’s eyes, the sharpness of his cheekbones.  _ As much as I prefer to think that Nagito’s hells are caused by his own mind and his inability to understand, I sometimes forget that he’s still a broken person. I wish I could forget that.  _ Hajime knew he’d crossed some invisible, little line in Nagito’s brain. A line he wasn’t sure anyone else had ever come close to. He felt almost cruel, staring down at the man next to him. “I-I’m sorry, you’re still recovering and I shouldn’t be-” Hajime was the first to falter between the two of them, his words coming out in a nervous mess. 

“It’s okay, Hajime.” Nagito cut him off quickly. “You have nothing to apologize for.” There was a weight to Nagito’s words that Hajime was afraid to dig into. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve put in this effort. I can’t imagine what you’re gaining from being patient with me.” Nagito was challenging him. Hajime scowled.  _ Like I’m gonna back down.  _

“You’re better than you think.” He said with a firm voice. Nagito laughed, empty and mirthless. 

“Then I would have assumed someone besides you would have found me worth their time.”  _ There was someone else.  _ Nagito’s mind started, despite his best attempts to keep it quiet.  _ There was someone else who wasted their time on me, but I’ve since learned why they bothered. As strange as Hajime is, he’s certainly not capable of evil. I believe that.  _

 

* * *

 

 

A day or two passed and Hajime was beginning to notice a few things about Nagito Komaeda. He somehow kept his childhood home even cleaner than the house he had back home. He was surprisingly good at pool but he seemed happier when he lost. Most strange, however, was the fact that he vehemently avoided the living room. If he made himself tea, he’d take it to his room or just drink it in the kitchen. If he wanted to watch TV, he’d go downstairs despite there being a perfectly functioning TV in the living room. There were various books in the bookshelves but Hajime hadn’t seen Nagito so much as glance at any of them, despite him constantly skimming through the shelves in the study and basement. Hajime finally decided to ask him about it one night over dinner. “So why do you hate the living room?” He frowned. 

Nagito looked like a deer in the headlights. “It’s… simply an unpleasant room.”

“What makes it any different from all the other rooms?” Hajime was confused. It was decorated the same. Same amount of sun got in. If anything, it actually seemed more accessible than a lot of the other rooms that Nagito spent his time in. 

“It is…” Nagito looked like he was searching for words in his head. “Oh!” He suddenly gasped, eyes shifting behind Hajime to the large window in the dining room. Hajime followed his gaze and gasped, too. A deer had wandered  up to the window, it’s nose almost touching the glass. “Deer never get this close to the house.” Nagito frowned in a quiet tone. 

“You think it’d be scared. I’m sure it can hear us.” Hajime raised an eyebrow at it. It’s dark eyes stared back at him blankly. “Are deers good luck or bad luck?” He asked.  _ If anyone knows that kinda thing, I’m betting it’s Nagito.  _

“Good luck. Very good luck.” Nagito breathed, head tilted to the side to watch the deer. It blinked once and then suddenly turned, running back into the woods. “In Ancient Greece it was a good omen to travellers wondering if they should continue. The goddess Demeter would appear to them as a deer as a sign to carry on.” Nagito seemed to almost break from a trance. “Of course there’s no real bearing to that, but it’s interesting to think about.” He mumbled quickly. 

“Yeah. It is.” Hajime nodded his agreement. They finished dinner and Nagito insisted on doing dishes. (“I really don’t mind cleaning, Hajime!”) Hajime watched him from the counter. When he was finished, Hajime suggested they do something together. 

“What do you suggest?” Nagito asked, drying his hands on a dish towel. Hajime shrugged. 

“I dunno. You would know better than me.”

“Hm.” Nagito seemed doubtful there was anything he knew better in, but he thought, anyway. “I have board games. Movies, although not very many. There’s the yard-”

“Yard?”

“Er, yes. Croquet, badminton, that sort of thing. We don’t have a pool, but there’s a fire pit.” Nagito frowned as if he had to genuinely try to remember what they had. Hajime was surprised.  _ I haven’t seen the yard, but I didn’t know it was that big.  _

“Well then wanna have a fire?”

“Okay.” Nagito blinked. 

“Do you… Er, have y’know, stuff for s’mores and everything?”

“No?”

“Do you want me to run to the store and buy some?” Hajime offered. Nagito insisted on joining him. Hajime was fairly sure Nagito hadn’t used the fire pit since his parents’ death. It seemed like he hadn’t done much of anything in the house since then. They went back to the store and Hajime bought some marshmallows and chocolate and a case of beer. “Do we need firewood or do you have that?” He asked.

“We’ll need to buy it.” Nagito looked towards the stack in front of the store. Hajime bought that, too, and they headed back to Nagito’s house. As he drove them home, Hajime took in the scenery or the wooded area and the sight of the lake ever present in the distance. 

“Y’know, if I had a house up here, I’d probably be up here all the time to just get a break from things. It’s seems calming.” It was starting to get dark, so he turned on the headlights. Nagito suddenly seemed uncomfortable. 

“It is difficult to be comfortable here when you’re completely alone with so many memories.” He said after a pause. “Hajime!” He suddenly yelped, wide eyes trained on the road. Hajime slammed on the brakes just in time to stop a foot or so before a deer that had run into the street. It stared into the car with even wider eyes than Nagito and blinked once before darting away. For a moment, they both just sat in silence besides their breathing, hearts beating in thunderous unison. 

“Was that… was that the deer from earlier?” Hajime asked tentatively. Part of him didn’t want to ask, because if so, it was just too much a coincidence to be normal. It would border on worrying. Fortunately, Nagito shook his head. 

“It was a doe.” He mumbled, still staring at the road blankly. “To see a deer twice in one day. We must be on our way to good luck.” Nagito didn’t sound as though he truly meant those words. Hajime didn’t feel like the adrenaline of the near crash had left him until they were walking into Nagito’s backyard, s’more ingredients and firewood in tow. Nagito put out two chairs while Hajime started a fire. “You can start a fire?” He asked, leaning over Hajime and making him jump slightly. 

“Er, yeah. It’s not too difficult. You just… set it on fire. I mean, I did boyscouts for like, two months but yeah.” Hajime scratched the back of his neck and put the lighter on a table. The fire was just starting, a tiny golden flame pushing past the newspaper and firewood they’d set down. Hajime got into a chair and watched it grow, feeling the heat start to spread, as well. He looked over to Nagito and saw the fire reflected in his eyes. With the light flickering in them, they suddenly seemed so much less bottomless. He was staring at the fire with a neutral look that held a softness that was rare for him. Hajime’s eyes turned back to the fire and he wondered if maybe Nagito’s softness for the fire was because he saw himself in it. A destructive, unstoppable force, yes, but a beautiful one. 

_ Wait. _

_ What the hell am I thinking? That’s sappy, even for me. Yikes.  _ Hajime put a hand to his head and Nagito finally looked up at him. “Do you have a headache, Hajime? I have some ibuprofen if you need-”

“Ah, no but thanks.” Hajime shook his head. Nothing in the world would be able to convince him to try and explain to the other man what was going through his head right then. They sat in silence again, watching the fire and listening to it crackled until finally Hajime reached for the bag of marshmallows, the plastic bag disrupting the peaceful background noise. He stuck two onto a skewer and watched them cook over the fire, his face growing comfortably warm from the heat. Nagito’s usually pale cheeks were gaining a bit of color in the orange tinted glow. When the marshmallows were done, Hajime stuck them onto two graham crackers and added chocolate. He offered one of the s’mores to Nagito, who took it with a quick thanks. “So did you have a lot of fires growing up?” It was always a dangerous game asking Nagito about his past, but Hajime had decided that if he would gain anything from this trip, it would just be more understanding of Nagito. He wanted that even more than a response to his confession .He just wanted to stop feeling as though he knew nothing about the man he spent every day of his life with. 

“No. I didn’t have very many friends.” Nagito said casually. 

“Oh. Um. I’m sorry, that sucks.”  _ “that sucks” yeah great show of sympathy, Hajime.  _ His brain jeered. Nagito smirked. Hajime hated that smirk and the way it made him feel. 

“It’s fine. No use worrying about it, anymore.” Nagito shrugged, taking a bite of his s’more. He somehow managed to eat it without making a mess. Hajime was trying to figure out how to discreetly get the marshmallow off of his hands without looking like a child. He decided to distract Nagito with a story. 

“A long time ago, I went camping with some people from orchestra. It was like me, Chiaki, Gundham, Sonia, and Souda, I think. We got this campsite and we had a fire going and it was great. But anyway, Gundham’s super vegan. You probably knew that. Well, he insisted on bringing this dairy free milk, which is crazy flammable, but none of us knew. Like, that’s a weird thing to assume, isn’t it?” He appreciated Nagito’s nodding in the correct spot of the story. “So we were playing truth or dare by the fire and Souda got pissed ‘cause he had to admit something dumb and he stood up too fast and knocked the milk out of Gundham’s hands and into the fire and it just…  _ bam _ , fire everywhere. All of us were freaking out, ‘cause we didn’t wanna get kicked out of the campsite or start a forest fire or whatever dumb shit. Chiaki had this… I don’t even know, like a mini fire extinguisher? Yeah, well she had one in her car and she ran and got it and put the fire out for all of us. But Gundham spent the whole night whining about his spilt milk, ironic right? I always think about it when I’m at a campfire.” Hajime hoped Nagito didn’t notice he was rambling. He examined his face, but the only emotion he could read was a strangely wistful look in his eyes. Before Hajime could ask what it was about, Nagito called his name. 

“Hajime?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you keep in contact with Chiaki?” He asked. The question took Hajime by surprise and he flinched. Nagito was staring at his hands, picking at his nails. “I hate cheaters. Cheating at a game takes away any hope for the other players, it defeats the purpose of the game. But I know you don’t think that way. There’s no moral reason for you to not talk to her other than maybe anger for jeopardizing your career. But… I’ve been around you long enough to believe that you wouldn’t care much about that. I sustained a career changing injury immediately after we won nationally and you have never seemed upset with me. I just don’t understand what happened that would make you hate her enough to remove her from your life like she never existed.” Nagito’s eyes were shining brightly, reflecting the fire. The glow in them was no longer inviting and warm, it was sparking and dangerous. The question had struck Hajime to his very core. No one had been that up front with him about Chiaki since the incident. Everyone else knew better.  _ I should have known Nagito wouldn’t have the social graces to know it’s an inappropriate question, or at least one I don’t want to answer.  _ But that wasn’t what bothered Hajime, it was the incessant feeling that Nagito  _ knew _ it wasn’t something Hajime wanted to talk about and yet he still asked, as some sort of jaded attempt at eliciting a reaction. 

“I don’t hate Chiaki. Don’t say that.” Hajime finally muttered, poking at the fire with his skewer. He could see the metal at the tip of the skewer beginning to burn a deep red. “You should stay out of the situation. You weren’t there for it, you don’t get it. Chiaki did what she did to protect me.” 

“I  _ was _ there, Hajime. Remember?” Nagito didn’t seem like he was catching the hint that he was pissing Hajime off.  _ Doesn’t he remember the time I practically punched him over pestering me about that trophy? Or does he just not give a shit? _ “In fact, Chiaki and I competed in the same piano category. She beat me by five points. That’s quite a lot. I understand she’s a more skilled player than I am. I relate to her in the sense that I’d do anything to further your career, even if it meant throwing away my dignity -not that I have much to begin with- but I want to know what it was she did that made you cut her off. I don’t want to make the same mistake.” 

“Nagito, shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hajme snapped, anger finally seeping into his voice and leaking out through every crack. Nagito’s eyes lit up, like he’d just been told to continue. 

“What does it take to push you enough over the edge that you’ll want to be rid of me? What did Chiaki do to reach that length?” He started again. Hajime stood up, knocking his chair over on accident. 

“She didn’t do  _ anything _ . It’s just how life worked out. If you brought me up here to try and piss me off enough to treat you like you want me to then I’m just gonna go home because this isn’t what I signed up for, Nagito.” Hajime was seething. 

“Then what did you sign up for, Hajime?” Nagito’s voice was pleasant, curious. That pissed him off even more. 

“You know what you’re doing. Don’t fucking play dumb. For how stupid you like to claim to be, you’re sure fucking good at weaseling around like a snake.” 

“Ah! You’ve finally noticed, Hajime!” Nagito clapped his hands together excitedly. There was a terrible happiness lurking in his expression that almost scared Hajime. “Are you finally done with me? Or will it be something else that convinces you I’m terrible?” He tilted his head as he asked. Hajime didn’t respond. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger in check. When there wasn’t more stimuli for Nagito to choke himself on, a stray bit of something resembling hurt passed his face. “I only bring up Chiaki because I’m jealous of her, Hajime. She got everything I ever wanted from you. She was so,  _ so _ close to you and then she got to taste the feeling of being rejected by you. I  _ revel _ in just imagining that, Hajime. I hope you know.” His voice was manic. Hajime took a step away. 

“You’re so fucked. I don’t know why I even bother with you,  _ God _ .” Hajime spat. His mind was reeling, trying to figure out for once  _ where the fuck _ Nagito’s outburst came from. He felt like his brain was a roulette wheel, spinning until it landed on realization more by chance than anything else. He took a deep breath, trying to contain his anger long enough to get his point across to Nagito, though he knew it was unlikely he’d listen to any reason. “You’ve been trying to push me away and then pull me closer since we met. Do you have any idea how confusing this is for me? One moment, you’re all over me and the next you’re doing everything you can to make me feel like shit. I… I think you want to be close with me. I think you like me, too. But I think you’re  _ so _ scared of me finding out whatever’s wrong with you that you keep pushing me away so that I don’t get the chance to reject you. You want me to reject you on your terms and that’s bullshit. You can’t pull the strings of our relationship and think I won’t notice.” Hajime was both surprised and impressed with himself and the stern tone he managed to hold for the whole speech, his voice never faltering or stopping on him. He met Nagito’s gaze. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. No words or silent exchanges were passed, just a painful stalemate until the fire crackled loudly and for the second time in his life, Hajime watched Nagito Komaeda break. 

At first, only a single sob broke through Nagito’s cold exterior, but it was like a breaking dam, releasing a flood of tears and choked sobs that racked through Nagito like he was made of nothing more than paper and glass. Just moments ago, Nagito’s smug, malicious barrier of a personality had made him seem so untouchable and in control and now Hajime felt a pang of pity just watching him. He wanted to be mad at Nagito for the things he’d said, for the buttons he’d been trying to press, and yet… he couldn’t be. Underneath the layers of corruption and weirdness, there was a certain level of innocence to Nagito that it had taken Hajime a long time to understand. It was the kind of innocence found in someone who was broken by the world around them. Despite his volatility and his erratic behaviour, Nagito was still human.  _ Probably even more human than I am _ , Hajime thought.  _ He gets hurt and he responds by hurting, it’s our most basic instinct. When he can’t do that, he hurts himself before anyone else can.  _ Hajime remembered what Rantaro had told him about Nagito using psychology as a way to try and understand himself. He took a hesitant sigh and approached the chair Nagito was sitting in. He’d expected a fragmented conversation or apology best case scenario or more crying worst case scenario, but instead Nagito latched onto him with the urgency of a dying man. He balled his fists in Hajime’s sweatshirt, pulling him closer until Hajime felt like Nagito was trying to pull himself  _ into _ Hajime. His head rested on Hajime’s shoulder, each new sob now vibrating through Hajime’s chest, as well. He could feel Nagito’s heartbeat, another reminder of the humanity in front of him. It felt like years before the sobs finally started to cease, turning into shaky little coughs and finally just a steady tremble. Hajime felt Nagito’s grip start to weaken, but Hajime continued to hold on. He felt like he was the only thing holding Nagito together in that moment. It was a scary thought. 

Nagito mumbled something into Hajime’s chest. Between the fire, the crickets, and Nagito’s ragged breathing, he knew there was no way for him to have heard his words. But Hajime knew what he’d said nonetheless. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Nagito repeated, his breathing starting to calm down, but still coming out in jagged puffs of air. Hajime ran a hand through the tangled mess of his hair. 

“It’s okay. I get it.” Hajime replied, feeling Nagito’s shoulders shake beneath him. He finally let go and turned around to right his chair, again. He set it down much closer to Nagito than it had been before and took a seat. “Is it… is it harder having me here?”  _ Here. His house. What does Nagito do when he’s up here alone? I can’t imagine he breaks down like this, so it must be my being here that’s causing it.  _ He finally looked up at Nagito’s face when he didn’t get an answer. Tears tracks were glistening on his cheeks in the moonlight, reflecting golden pieces of ember in a way that almost made Nagito’s face sparkle. He shook his head slowly. 

“I’m not always good with my words, Hajime. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now.” His voice was more even than Hajime had expected it to be. He made eye contact with Hajime and took a nervous breath before looking away again. “It’s easier with you here.” Nagito sucked in a breath. “But it shouldn’t be. I don’t deserve for it to be easier. This… This is something I keep painful on purpose. If I let myself hurt enough maybe one day my guilt will cease and I’ll have been redeemed. It’s doubtful, but I have hope.” He was fidgeting in his chair, words occasionally getting stuck in his throat. “Your being here makes things better, Hajime. Easier. But it shouldn’t. I come up here to suffer. I think sometimes I believe that if I am terrible enough, you will leave and that will be the pain that finally ends my contrition.” Nagito was picking at the edge of the bandage around his arm. Hajime was thankful it was there to protect his scars from his prying fingers. 

“Have… Have you ever thought that maybe you’ve suffered enough?” Hajime asked, gently. He knew the answer that was coming. 

“No. I still feel so guilty. I still feel worthless.” Nagito mumbled, staring into the fire. 

“I-I still don’t know what it is that you’ve done, Nagito, but… you may feel guilty your whole life, no matter how much penance you put yourself through.” Hajime was careful with his words. Nagito cracked a small, sad smile, a mirthless giggle passing his lips. 

“That would be rather despair-inducing, wouldn’t it?” He was still staring into the fire with a blank expression. 

 

* * *

 

They went to bed soon after, but Hajime couldn’t sleep. He laid silently in the bed for almost half an hour, just staring at the ceiling. He heard a rustling in the sheets and Nagito turned on his side, eyes open and watching Hajime. “You can’t sleep, either?” He asked. Nagito nodded, pale face looking even more pallid in the limited light. “Hey, uh, Nagito,” Hajime started. “Y’know… There are very few things you could have done that would make me never want to talk to you again like you think.”

Nagito raised an eyebrow. “Really? But there are so many options. I could be a necrophiliac. A cannibal. I could be a kidnapper or a serial killer.”

“You really went straight to the extremes.” Hajime laughed in surprise. “I’m pretty sure you’re none of those.” He paused. “Really, cannibalism? You went there?” 

“Vore.”

Hajime coughed on air, a startled noise escaping him before he could stop it. “You… How do you even know that word?” He laughed. Nagito grinned, happy with the reaction he’d gotten. 

“Kokichi used it.”

“Of fucking course he did.” Hajime grumbled, putting a hand to his head. “I swear to God, I dunno where my dad finds these people. They’re crazy, all of them.” He rubbed his eyes, trying to ground himself. Nagito snickered. 

“Ah, well you seem to have a habit of finding crazy people, too, Hajime.” Nagito sounded affectionate in a strange way. “I should be thankful.” He laughed lightly. Hajime felt a flush creep across his cheeks. 

“You’re not crazy, you’re just… Different.” It was weak, even Hajime could acknowledge that, but it seemed like the effort was a compliment to Nagito all the same. “Hey, Nagito, I wanna say something really quick. With our track record, we’ll probably end up fighting or you’ll do something weird and I’ll forget to mention this so I wanna say it now.” He was greeted by a ready silence from Nagito. “I’m glad I met you.” He said quickly. 

“ _ What _ ?” Nagito looked bewildered. 

“I’m glad I met you.” Hajime repeated, giving Nagito the benefit of the doubt that he just hadn’t heard him. 

“A-Ah.” Nagito squeaked, suddenly burying his head under the covers. Hajime laughed, letting one of his hands ruffle through Nagito’s hair.  _ I would give almost anything to get a look inside that head of his.  _ A thought broke through Hajime’s laughter. He leaned over Nagito and peeled the blanket off of him. When he saw his face, Hajime’s breath caught.  _ There is something overwhelmingly refreshing about seeing Nagito genuinely happy. Especially after seeing the opposite earlier, it feels good to see him so content.  _ Without meaning to, one of Hajime’s hands drifted to Nagito’s cheek, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone. He leaned forward and suddenly, they were kissing. 

Hajime’s hand in Nagito’s hair dug deeper, rooting itself there as they kissed. Nagito was kissing with a sudden urgency. Hajime moved to Nagito’s neck, doing his best not to leave hickeys. Something told Hajime that with Nagito’s weird luck, they’d end up in a situation where he’d regretted the bruises. He couldn’t stop himself from biting down just once, however. Nagito took a ragged breath and Hajime thought back to the time he’d tried to get Hajime to choke him. He didn’t realize he was entirely over Nagito until he started unbuttoning his pajama shirt. Nagito’s hands flew up to help him. Something pricked at the back of Hajime’s mind. It wasn’t until the last button that he realized what. “You’re… using both hands.” Hajime breathed through a smile. Nagito looked down. 

“I am.” He sounded just as surprised. Hajime thought back to the conversation they’d had when they’d shared their hotel room for the competition. When Nagito had told him he was ambidextrous. That he could do things with one hand.  _ Now he doesn’t have to.  _ Hajime smiled and started kissing the newly exposed skin on Nagito’s chest. He gasped when Hajime’s mouth made contact with him, though Hajime was fairly sure it wasn’t in surprise this time. His hands found their way to Nagito’s sides, digging in at his hips. Nagito’s breathing was growing more and more ragged and Hajime’s nips at his skin were starting to pull small noises out of him. Hajime left an open mouthed kiss on his stomach and something damn near a moan sneaked past his lips. “Hajime?” He breathed, an urgent note in his voice. 

“Mhmm?” Hajime didn’t have the mindspace to form a full sentence. Nagito’s skin was hot to the touch, making the cold air around them feel especially brisk. He bit down into Nagito’s collarbone.  _ No one’s gonna see hickeys here, I suppose.  _

“ _ Ah _ !” A true moan from Nagito sent an icy shiver down Hajime’s spine. Nagito’s hand was scratching at Hajime almost frantically, a breath that sounded nearly panicked. There was a deep blush setting on Nagito’s face, spreading down to his neck. Hajime’s eyes met his and for a brief moment, he got lost in the watery, green depths there. There was a sparkling moment of clarity that Hajime could feel more than see. “I killed my parents.” Nagito almost swallowed his words. 

Hajime froze. He leaned off of Nagito. 

“What?” He could feel a dark feeling spreading through his veins, filling him with a hot dread. Nagito was staring up at him with terrified eyes. He looked down at his hands in shock. “W-What… what do you mean you killed your parents?”

“I-I… I…” Nagito’s voice was brittle. “Please forget that, Hajime.” He said in an suddenly even tone,  _ like that’s an at all reasonable excuse.  _

“Er… No.” Hajime sat back on his heels, putting a hand out for balance. “You’re freaking me out, Nagito, what are you talking about?” Hajime narrowed his eyes, the dark feeling in him growing stronger. Nagito whimpered like Hajime had reached out and slapped him. “You didn’t actually kill them, did you? Nagito?”

“N-no. This is a bad idea, Hajime. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No.” Hajime’s voice was sterner than he thought it would be. “I’m tired of the secrets and-and the cover ups and all this bullshit. You’ve come this far, tell me the fucking truth. What are you trying to hide? What’s your big secret, Nagito?” He didn’t break eye contact, hoping it would serve as some sort of encouragement to talk. There was a heavy silence for almost a solid minute, ripe with a terrible tension that Hajime wanted to be rid of desperately.  _ But the only way to finally move past all this shit is to face it.  _

“Please, Hajime-”

“What do you have to lose?”

“... You.” Nagito’s voice cracked. 

“You’re too far to go back. Let’s end this now, okay?” Hajime straightened up and took a seat on the bed next to Nagito. He held out a hand to Nagito, who took it and gripped it weakly, pulling himself up to sit at the same level as Hajime. 

“I… I’d never felt wanted, before. My parents… weren’t close with me. I’d never- I’d never had a friend, before. You have to understand, Hajime… You have to understand how hard it was for me.” Nagito’s grip got stronger for a moment. “All I’d ever been praised for was piano. I was so  _ excited _ when I had my first lesson. My teacher’s name was Junko. Junko Enoshima.”  _ So that’s who taught him before he switched to Chisa. If she has something to do with the story, then no wonder Nagito was always so secretive about her.  _

“That… That name sounds familiar.” Hajime frowned. Nagito nodded solemnly.  _ So that’s who Junko is, but… her full name sounds familiar. I swear I’ve heard it before.  _

“No one had ever cared, before. But she did. She knew everything and she listened to me. Always. Junko was an incredibly talented woman. But I… I should have known it would take someone as sick as me to understand.” Bitterness was seeping through his voice. “Junko had a way of making you feel like you were important. As if you mattered. Even when you don’t. It’s a beautiful feeling, Hajime. When you’re on top of the world, you forget about its underbelly. You start to let things slip past you that shouldn’t. Warning signs. You ignore terrible things if they make you feel important.” Nagito was smiling with a strange look, memories floating behind his eyes. “Junko used to come by nearly every day for lessons. When she asked me for a key, it didn’t send any red flags. I gave her one. She knew my schedule better than her own.” Nagito’s face was suddenly stony. “I came home one day from school and her car was already here. I… I walked inside…I…” Nagito was faltering, his eyes growing wider with each stumble of his words. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Hajime wrapped a comforting arm around Nagito’s shoulders. Nagito took a shaky breath.  _ I can, like, feel the words struggling to get out in the open. I’m proud of him for getting this far, but honestly, I’m… kinda confused.  _

“The living room. There, oh God, Hajime, there was so much blood. I’ve never seen so much blood. I remember being disappointed before I lost consciousness in the accident. I’d hoped there’d be more blood so that there would be something to replace that night.” Nagito’s bad hand clutched at the sheets feebly. “She killed them. Junko killed my parents and I… I just let her. I  _ gave _ her my key, Hajime. I pretended not to see every single warning sign because I wanted to be  _ wanted _ . If I-I’d been less obsessed with trying to disprove my own uselessness to myself she would have never had the chance to weasel her way into their lives.”

“You… you watched your parents die?” Hajime gaped.  _ This is… a lot to take in, Jesus Christ.  _

“Hardly. They were mostly dead when I arrived. I often think if I had been a little more capable, I might’ve been able to do something. Could have saved them.” Nagito laughed, his voice hollow.  _ Mostly dead? _

“What… Oh my God… What did you do? What do you even do in that situation?” Hajime was running a hand up and down Nagito’s back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

“I’m not really sure. I don’t remember calling the police but they were there when I woke up. I knew it was my fault immediately. So… I tried to finish what she had started-”

“ _ You killed them!?” _ Hajime yelped. 

“No.”

“Oh thank God.”

“I tried to kill myself.” Nagito didn’t seem to hear Hajime coughing. “It didn’t work, obviously. I thought that if I died with them then maybe I could be a victim, too, and then I’d be innocent. I wouldn’t have killed them.”

“But you  _ were _ a victim. Some psycho bitch killed your parents. She took advantage of your vulnerability, that’s hardly your fault. You’re innocent in this, Nagito.”  _ Thank the Lord that he was actually innocent in this. Holy shit. This is too much, I can’t believe he suffered through this alone so many years.  _

“Thank you, Hajime, but I don’t wish to lie to myself about this.” He smiled, devoid of much true happiness at all. “I suppose it makes sense that you didn’t know. You were probably the only one at that competition so many years ago who did. That was only months after everything happened. Rumors spread quickly. You treated me like I was normal, Hajime. It meant the world to me.” Nagito’s tone was light.  _ Too casual for someone who just dropped a bomb like this.  _ Hajime thought to himself. 

“Thank you… Thank you for telling me about this. It really is, um, mature of you. I don’t think I would have the courage to do that.” Hajime pulled Nagito into a hug. “I proud of you.”

“...Oh.” Nagito mumbled, wrapping an arm around Hajime. 

“Hm?”

“It’s funny, Hajime. When I’m with you, I feel important, like I did with her. But… you  don’t feel dangerous. You actually feel, well, safe.” 

“Well I’ll be around for a long time. So you can count on my safety.”

Nagito’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “You mean…?” He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. Understanding between him and Hajime was clear as day for once in their relationship.  _ You can’t scare me off, Nagito. I’ve seen what lies behind the depths of your eyes now and I can handle it. I’m staying by your side.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry the chapter ends so abruptly! I won't have much time to write in the upcoming week or so (i'm moving!). So, I wanted to get this one posted ASAP. I hope that Nagito's secret wasn't disappointing to anyone. I have to admit, some of the theories you guys came up with were even better than what I had planned for the story, haha. Thanks a lot for reading, it means a lot!


	6. Self Awareness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kjsdnfj sry this is so short and I'm so sry for the random update schedule and messy chapters, I just have a ton of stuff going on in my life rn. I hope you all enjoy anyway and thanks so much for reading!! It means a ton <3

It didn’t take Hajime long to realize that Nagito was much lighter in general now that his secret was out, at least to Hajime. He seemed less scared, less closed off, than before. The topic of his parents’ death was still as avoided as ever, but it was no longer an all-consuming black hole of secrecy and torment for them both. While it had definitely cleared Nagito’s conscience, it had set off a ticking time bomb in Hajime’s.

 _When is he going to insist I tell him? I forced him out in the open and I’m still hiding here in the shadows like a coward._ Hajime’s thoughts were hitting especially hard.

“I didn’t take you for a gambler.” Nagito muttered, pulling his suit jacket on.

“Er, what?”

“I didn’t take you for a gambler and yet you’re the one who suggested we go to the casino. Then again, you _did_ play cards with me that one time…” Nagito trailed off in thought. He straightened out his sleeves.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, it just seemed like the sort of thing you would like. I wanted to see where you used to work, too.” Hajime was working on his own tie. _Do you usually have to dress up for casinos? Or is it just this place? Have I ever even been to a casino, before?_ His thought process was broken by Nagito crossing the room to stand in front of him.

“Where did you work? Before music, I mean.”

“I, er,  didn’t.” Hajime shrugged. “I taught music lessons when I was in high school for some easy money, but that’s the only thing I’ve ever done besides performing. Much to my dad’s chagrin.” He looked in the mirror and then turned back to Nagito. “I don’t think I could do anything besides music… Hey, um, what were you gonna do?”

Nagito raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Back when you were studying psychology?”

“I never had a plan, Hajime.” Nagito laughed easily. “I just wanted a chance to try and understand how everything worked. Myself. Others. I never _had_ to plan, so I didn’t. I just did what was the least boring.” Nagito tilted his head to the side, watching Hajime. “Eventually the least boring option was you.” He smiled.

“Me? Exciting?” Hajime shook his head. “So, uh, do you gamble a lot?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Hajime’s tone was apologetic. “I was just wondering, ‘cause, er, I really don’t know how. I don’t even think I’ve been to a casino, before. I mean, I’ve seen Casino Royale, but I’m betting it’s a bit different.” He laughed.

“Ah, I know that movie!” Nagito seemed proud, which made Hajime smile. _He’s cute when he’s got a bit of pride in himself._ “I’ve been there.” He nodded happily. “The last time I was in Europe, I went to Monte Carlo for a few days and considering one of my only talents is luck -if you can even call it that- I figured I should gamble while I was there.” Nagito had started out the door, so Hajime followed.

“You have lots of talents, Nagito.” Hajime insisted. The other man just looked back for a moment.

“We should get going.” He opened the front door and stepped outside into the cool air. Hajime watched the breeze ruffle his hair before he followed him outside and unlocked the car. They drove to the casino, Nagito pointing out directions until they arrived. “We’ll play slots. Even if you’ve never gambled, you can do those.” Nagito beckoned Hajime into the large building in front of them. It almost looked intimidating, the dark sky behind it creating a strange atmosphere. “Just follow me.”

“Thanks.” Hajime mumbled. Nagito approached the front entrance and waved happily to a man standing near the entrance who seemed to be some sort of security. _Security? They need security? I guess banks have that, too, sometimes, but still… I can’t imagine Nagito working somewhere this serious._ Except, once Hajime walked inside he realized “serious” was definitely not the right word for it.

It felt like everything in sight was begging Hajime for his attention. Various loud noises were bouncing off of every wall, coming from the machines and rising above the chatter of the guests. Blinking, neon lights were almost blindingly bright despite the dimness of the room. Hajime didn’t know where to look first. He was vaguely aware that Nagito had taken his hand and started to lead him somewhere. Every person that passed them seemed to be more interesting than the last. _I can’t even imagine people watching here._ Hajime thought to himself. He heard a voice. “Huh?” Hajime blinked, coming back to his senses. Nagito was watching him with a neutral expression.

“Where would you like to start, Hajime?”

“Er, don’t we need to, I dunno, buy chips or whatever?”

“Not for slots.” Nagito laughed, shaking his head. “You only have to pick one.”

“Okay.” Hajime looked around. He saw the brightest one near them and pointed to it. “That one.”

Nagito shrugged and walked over to it with him. He stood next to the machine, so Hajime took the stool. “Slide a bill into the reader there.” He pointed to a little flap. Hajime slid twenty dollars in. “Press the button.” Nagito continued. Hajime pressed the button closest to him. Symbols flashed by on the screen, finally ending on a mix match. Hajime didn’t know a lot about gambling, but he still recognized that meant he hadn’t won. “So you can keep playing with what you have left, or you can print a receipt of it and use a different machine.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Hm.” Nagito frowned and looked away, as if deep in thought. “It depends. How do you feel about it?”

“Er, normal?”

“Hmmm. Well, I would try a different machine. I know from when I worked here that this one gives jackpots by the hour.” He leaned over to hit the receipt button for Hajime.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No.” Nagito seemed amused. “If someone wins every hour, then you won’t get much out of it, will you? You’re better off winning a bigger prize at a more difficult machine. Then again, I often play with higher stakes than I would recommend to most people.” Nagito seemed in his element in the casino. Not as much as he did when he was playing piano, but still a refreshing shift in his usually uncomfortable aura. Even just the way he was leaning against the slot machine made him look more at ease than he almost ever did standing about. Hajime remembered the same thing happening that first time the two of them had played King’s Corner together. Something about putting that ever-present luck of his to the test seemed to bring out a side of Nagito that was rarely seen. “Ah, over here.” He pointed Hajime towards a different machine. There were identical ones around it, but all of the seats were taken besides the one Nagito had pointed to. They walked over and Hajime took a seat again. He bet another twenty dollars. Nagito hadn’t said anything about the amount the first time around, so he figured it had to be an alright amount to bet. For the second time, he got a mix match of symbols.

“Do you wanna try?” He raised an eyebrow. Nagito hesitated.

“Alright.” He decided on an answer and took Hajime’s spot on the stool. He took his wallet out and slid in twenty dollars.

“I have a good feeling.” Nagito mumbled, almost to himself. He pressed the button and they both watched the screen closely. It felt like the matching was taking longer than it had on Hajime’s, although he was also fairly sure it was just because he was watching it, rather than experiencing it. Three clovers landed on the screen and it lit up. Nagito watched with a bored expression.

“Hm.” He mumbled, pressing the receipt button. People at the next few machines were looking over.

“You’re getting two thousand back?”

“One thousand nine hundred and eighty.”

“O-oh.” Hajime nodded, smiling with uncertainty. _He just won two thousand dollars. Does he even care? He looks like he’s reading a textbook not hitting the jackpot on slots. I thought winning on slots was basically impossible, anyway. Does he have some secret from when he used to work here? I should ask him later._ “So’re you gonna cash out?” Nagito nodded in response. He stood up, receipt in hand and walked to a nearby desk, standing at the back of the line. “It’s pretty cool you won.”

“Thank you, Hajime.” Nagito smiled warmly.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Like I said, I had a good feeling.” Nagito looked up at the ceiling. Slowly, his eyes turned back to Hajime. “Or maybe you’re good luck.” There was something playful in his eyes. Hajime smiled back. _I’m glad he’s happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him talk about luck with such a jovial look._ They walked to the counter and Nagito exchanged his money. He spoke for a moment with the man behind the glass, just small talk. He asked about Nagito’s arm. Nagito waved it off, shrugging. When he turned around, he leaned close to Hajime, his breath tickling his ear. “Want to see something _exciting_?” His voice barely above a whisper. Hajime could feel every hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He locked eyes with Nagito and nodded. Nagito grabbed his hand and pulled him through a nearby hallway, past a few ornate doors and finally to one at the end of the hall. Hajime wasn’t sure what to expect. Between Nagito’s unpredictability and his lack of knowledge about these sort of situations, he was out of his depth. Normally, the thought may have stressed him, but Nagito was both a comfort and frustratingly exhilarating. Nagito pulled his wallet from his pocket and flipped through some cards. He picked out a simple red card and swiped it through a security reader next to the door. Somewhere, something beeped and the faint sound of something unlocking echoed quietly. He pulled the door open for Hajime, who stepped into the room. It was surprisingly large, even with the dark red wallpaper that ran up every vertical surface. An assortment of game tables sat in the center of the room. A small group of people were seated at one, cards in hand and expressions wary. Security was on either side of the door, startling Hajime as he walked in. Nagito skirted the sides of the room until he stopped next to a woman who was watching the game with intent eyes. “Nagito Komaeda.” She had an accent, although Hajime couldn’t place it, like a strange mix of European countries.

“You’re not going to play, Celestia?” Nagito’s eyes were trained on the table, like hers. She laughed softly and quietly, her black pigtails bobbing in time to her laugh.

“I am waiting. Patience is important, Nagito. You should know this.” Her eyes finally flashed to him. “You never learn.”

“You should learn not to expect so much from me.” He countered. Celestia’s eyes travelled past him to Hajime. Her and Nagito exchanged glances.

“Um… where are we?” Hajime whispered to Nagito.

“The high stakes table. It’s a seperate room in a casino, where higher bets are gambled, often by professional gamblers, like Celestia.” He responded. Celestia’s eyes darted back to Nagito at the mention of her name. Someone was starting a game at another table and Celestia was the first to sit down. _Guess she’s had enough of her patience, now._  “I’d often volunteer to work these tables without payment, just for the chance to watch the players. It’s a valuable pastime. There’s much to learn.” Nagito’s back was to the wall, but rather than seeming like he was cornered, it seemed like such a safe position. Every player at the table seemed exposed, sitting in the middle of the rooms, their backs open to everyone besides their opponents. It left a strange cocktail of tensions in the air. Nagito was watching Hajime with a close eye, trying to observe what he was taking in. “Can you feel their confidence?” He asked and Hajime realized what that cocktail of tension was. _Nagito’s right. What I’m watching right now is pure, unstoppable confidence._ “In college I learned that vulnerability makes you more confident, as long as you control it. Rolling up your sleeves and exposing your neck makes you a target by our animal instincts and yet everyone around us perceives it as us being sure in our abilities. It’s because we visibly destroy our fear of them. We tell them that we’re not afraid to show the weak spots of our body because we know they cannot hurt us. That’s how these gamblers capture a room. To us, their cards and weakest spots are vulnerable and yet we watch them play in awe. Being up close is even more powerful. You get the chance to see the power they’re exerting over their opponents. It’s beautiful.” Nagito was almost breathless, voice dipping in excitement as he watched. His breath caught and he made a small noise, eyes darting to Hajime. “Most people don’t let me talk this long.”

“Oh.” Hajime wasn’t sure how to respond. “Well it’s interesting to hear, so I don’t mind.”

“Do you know why I’m telling you about all of this, Hajime?”

“Er, well…” Hajime thought and tried, but he came up empty. “No. Not really.” His negation didn’t seem like a surprise to Nagito.

“It’s similar to watching you play, Hajime.” He smiled. “I remember the first time I saw you play. I could have never imagined being your partner, even if it was only for a competition-”

“You’re still my partner, Nagito.” Hajime sighed, leaning against the wall next to Nagito. “Once you get some more movement back in your hand we’ll start practicing again and we’ll be ready for our next performance. Or competition, if you’re up to it. And even if you’re not, that’s fine. You’re still my partner.” There was a comfortable silence between the two.

 

* * *

 

 

Nagito unlocked the front door of his house and let Hajime inside. On instinct from the last few days, Hajime immediately started to walk away from the living room, towards the bedroom, but when he noticed the lack of Nagito’s presence behind him, he stopped. Nagito was standing at the base of stairs, staring into the living room with a hollow look. “Nagito?” Hajime called softly, trying not to startle him. Nagito’s head didn’t move, but his eyes turned to Hajime slowly.

“This is where it happened.” He gestured vaguely towards the living room. _Oh…. That’s why he hates this room so much._ “I haven’t changed anything since it was cleaned after their deaths.” His voice was brittle, so Hajime climbed back down the stairs to stand beside him, draping an arm over him.

“Where is Junko now?”

“Prison? I assume.” Nagito seemed unsure. “After the trial, I stopped keeping tabs on her. She took everything I loved from me. My parents and for a long time, my music. I figured that if she wished to return one day and finish what she started then it would be nothing more than a release for me. I promised myself I would welcome it.” He looked up to Hajime. “Things may be different now, though. I haven’t had a boyfriend to think about since my parents died.”

“‘Boyfriend?’” Hajime echoed, eyes wide.

“Ah, sorry if I assume too much, Hajime-”

“No, um, boyfriends. Completely. That’s great.” He felt a smile start to crawl up his face. His arm around Nagito turned into a hug. He kissed the top of Nagito’s head.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take long for Nagito to fall asleep. He’d found long ago that the happier he was, the easier sleep came to him, which seemed ironic considering all the years he’d spent unable to sleep when he truly needed it. _Hajime helps, too. He’s a comforting presence in my life. Normally things that are this good cause some sort of rift in my life and yet so far, Hajime hasn’t. Maybe that is a bad sign. Or maybe… it is a good one._ The sudden positivity surprised Nagito. He was used to his own brain constantly being a more pessimistic force.

His sleep started dreamless and peaceful, until a loud ringing woke him up. It felt as though an ant was drumming away at his inner ear with a pickaxe. He put his hands over his ears and looked to Hajime, who was snoring quietly, apparently completely unperturbed by the sudden noise. Nagito sighed and stood up from the bed, beginning the trek downstairs. Now that the sound had had enough time to worm its way into his head, he was pretty sure what it was. He climbed down the stairs, sleep slowing his steps and then into the utility room. While the rest of the house had enough windows to be manageable in the dark, the utility room was windowless, so he was forced to turn on the lights, squinting in the sudden brightness. He fumbled with a heavy cardboard box, lifting it and carrying it to the other side of the room. The ringing stopped. The source of the noise was now lying innocently on the wall, silent as a mouse. Nagito grimaced at it. He’d rued the carbon monoxide detector since the day he’d been forced to install it. _Death by carbon monoxide wouldn’t be bad at all. Fast, painless. Other than causing Hajime some minor inconvenience, it would be such a nice end. But all this does is prevent that anc occasionally scream if it gets covered by something else for too long._ Nagito sent an frustrated glance at it before turning away and shutting off the lights. He started walking back up the stairs and took his spot back on the bed. Hajime was still somehow sleeping. Nagito turned on his side to watch Hajime and fell into a much less natural sleep.

Almost as soon as he closed his eyes, Nagito felt as though he’d opened them again. Darkness surrounded him. It wasn’t just the darkness of the room, but a more suffocating black. One that didn’t allow possibilities or perhaps allowed too many. He heard a muffled sound that turned into a mess of syllables. “Nnh… Gh...T-” the sounds began to take shape, forming his name. He recognized the voice instantly. “Nagito?... Nagito?” Hajime’s voice rang through the darkness, similar to how the alarm had before, except this time the anxiety was a very different sort.

“Hajime! Where are you?” He tried, spinning wildly to try and find any sort of distinguishing light or shape. _He sounds hurt. I need to find him._

“Nagito, I… I don’t want you to get hurt, you need to get out of here-” Hajime’s voice was interrupted by the snarl of some sort of beast. _What was that? A wolf? A bear? Something I have never seen before, most likely._ The only creature Nagito’s felt like he could rule out with certainty was a human.

“I’m alright, Hajime. Where are you?” Nagito repeated, hoping Hajime would answer this time. There was another vicious snarl and the sound of skin ripping. Fear was pounding in Nagito’s heart, but more than anything else, a surge of adrenaline to find and protect Hajime was circulating through him and distracting him.

“No, you can’t see! You’re not gonna-”

“How did you know I can’t see?” Nagito asked, interrupting without meaning to. The stress of the situation was creating an urgency. _So the problem is that I can’t see, not that the world has turned black. I’m not sure whether that’s a relief or a pain._ A warm hand grabbed Nagito’s wrist and for a moment, he felt pure panic, freezing in his spot like he’d just seen Medusa. But after a moment, the anxiety eased away. _I recognize this hand. I know this grip._ “Hajime?” Nagito tried to feel around, but he couldn’t reach Hajime. As he turned around, his vision turned gray, blurring like he was running. The world was still a wall of obsidian, but he could see through part of it. He squinted desperately, but he could barely make out the shape in front of him. He continued walking closer, the hand on his wrist gone. It wasn’t until he was too close that he realized what he’d walked into. A wolf was crouched in front of him, facing the opposite direction. He could hear the low grumble of a growl emerge from it and he almost took a step back. His hand reached out despite his best internal efforts to stop it and grazed the fur on the wolf’s back. Nagito pulled his hand away quickly. _That wasn’t fur. I still can’t see. That was skin. Human skin._ His breathing was speeding up. _I need to find Hajime, where is he? Where is he?_ He took a shaky breath and put his hand back on the creature in front of him, watching as his vision cleared up just enough for him to see it had been human all along. _I made it up in my head._ “Do you know where-” He started, but they turned around at his voice. “ _Hajime_?” Nagito yelped, eyes wide.

 

The world was back.

 

Nagito was breathing heavily, staring at the wall across from his bed. He could see the wall. There was no all consuming darkness or mysterious creature disguised as Hajime. He looked down at Hajime, who was still sleeping peacefully. _Maybe it wasn’t a monster disguised as Hajime. Maybe I’ve been thinking about this wrong the entire time. I was so sure in my own abhorrent nature that I never- No…. I need to stop. I do this to myself, I will not allow myself to do it to Hajime when he has been nothing but kind to me._ Nagito put a hand to his head and sighed.

 

* * *

 

The phone rang late in the morning, so Nagito set down his tea to grab it. Hajime was still asleep upstairs. “Hello?”

“Nagito? It’s Rantaro.”

“Ah, hello, Rantaro!” He did his best to sound friendly.

“Hey, I just wanted to see how you were doing? I haven’t really heard much since the accident, I wanted to uh, make sure you’re not dead or whatever.”

“I am alive. Very much alive.”

“Alright, good, good. Oh, I had another question.”

“Mhm?” Nagito waited for his response, spotting Hajime come into the kitchen from the corner of his eye. He waved to him, receiving a well rested smile in response. Rantaro was sifting through some papers on his end.

“Okay, well I volunteered to go to our college and y’know, talk about majors and stuff. So I’m talking to some psych kids. And they want me to do abnormal psych concentrations, too, but that’s more your area…”

“I doubt they want a dropout telling their students what to do with their lives. Especially not one who dropped psychology for music, anyway.” Nagito muttered, trying to keep his self deprecating tone down so Hajime wouldn’t call it out. Fortunately, he seemed distracted with trying to figure out which kind of cereal he was going to have for breakfast.

“Um, well yeah, you’re right about that, I guess.” Rantaro laughed awkwardly. “But, er, the music majors thought it’d be cool to have you there. The band director couldn’t get ahold of you and I told you changed your cell phone number-” Nagito remembered giving Rantaro specific instructions _not_ to tell anyone he’d changed his number. “-So yeah. Would you be down? It’d mean a lot to the students.”

“They know who I am?” Nagito raised an eyebrow in doubt. Hajime looked up from his cereal pondering.

“Er, yeah. You and Hajime are kinda the national champs and you’re an alum. It’s sort of a big deal.”

“Hm.” Nagito still didn’t sound like he believed any of what Rantaro was saying. “I can’t play.” He reminded Rantaro.

“That’s fine! They just want you to talk about stuff.”

“You should do it, that sounds really cool.” Hajime sat on the counter next to Nagito.

“Hm. I’ll think about it.” Nagito hung up the phone, not waiting for Rantaro’s response. He looked up to Hajime. “I still don’t undersand why they’d want someone who left the college to advertise it.” He frowned.

“Well, ‘cause you went there and you’re a talented musician?”

“But I studied psychology.” Nagito’s look turned even more perplexed. “I’ve never been asked to speak at almost anything, before. I had to make a speech at my parents funeral and Junko’s trial, but those were both just because of my relation to another person. I spoke at a concert of mine once, but… It didn’t… It didn’t work out well. The only time I ever even participated in public speaking in college was when a professor asked me to read a paper of mine to some colleagues-”

“Wait what? That’s, like, super impressive, Nagito.”

“Hardly. It was on frontotemporal dementia and its relation to psychopathology. It was utterly terrible, I never even made a good point in it. I believe it was my poor professor’s passive way of telling me to shut up.” Nagito leaned against the counter, elbow grazing Hajime’s knee. “I’ve only ever truly loved four things, Hajime. You’re one of them, in a way. I love music. I loved Junko at one point, though not in the way you probably think. And I loved psychology. Do you remember how I told you that I used piano to understand others’ emotions? It’s alright if you don’t. Well, psychology was the only other time in my life where I felt like a I really understand everyone around me. Their motives, their fears, their actions. But most of all, I understood myself. Do you know your IQ, Hajime?”

“Er, no. I don’t.”

“Mine is 142. But there’s something more important than that. Your emotional intelligence, something I’ve always struggled with. Do you know what the most important factor of EQ is?”

“Can’t say I do.” Hajime shook his head. _It’s nice that he’s finally talking about himself and his past like this, so candidly. He’s also trying to at least break up his monologuing with some questions, even if I don’t understand them all._

“It’s self awareness. I have none, I fear. With psychology, I did.”

“So why’d did you drop out?”

“There were better things than myself to see and do.” Nagito laughed like it was obvious. He turned around to stand between Hajime’s knees. “Is the cereal alright?”

“You’re just trying to distract me from talking about you.” Hajime mumbled through a mouthful of it.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Nagito chastised playfully, leaning closer. Hajime slid off the counter, setting the cereal down. When he was on the same level as Nagito, they were touching they were so close.

“Hm. Weird. I remember you talking with your mouth full.” He used one of Nagito’s dirtier tricks. _Allusion is a wonderful thing when it comes to sex._ Hajime decided. Nagito’s cheeks flushed but he still had the mind to feign ignorance.

“I would never!” Nagito’s good hand was discreetly finding its way to Hajime’s side and playing with the hem of his shirt. The cold feeling of his hand rubbing against the warm skin on Hajime’s hips sent a pleasant feeling running through him. His hands caught in Nagito’s hair and he pulled him forward, kissing him. He tasted like the peppermint tea he’d been drinking and it was funny to Hajime, although he couldn’t discern why.

“So you don’t ever do bad things?” He challenged as he pulled away. His thumb brushed Nagito’s high cheekbone.

“Ah, no Hajime. I’m a rather corrupt being. But… you haven’t minded, yet.” There was something at the end of his sentence that Hajime hadn’t seen much of, before. Confidence, but without coldness or superiority. Just a playful little smirk of a phrase that brought a smile to Hajime’s lips.

As fun as the banter was, Hajime’s mind was starting to move other places, so he kissed Nagito again. _We’re kissing as boyfriends, now. This is different than it used to be._ Hajime’s mind was very happy. He reached down, hands gripping Nagito’s hips, feeling the sudden shift in the other man’s posture. He was leaning into Hajime like he was the one holding him up. Something about the idea set off a small fire in Hajime’s brain. He was beginning to think that by the time Nagito Komaeda was done with him, there would be nothing left of his brain but fiery scraps. When he caught the smirk on Nagito’s face, he was sure of it. He pressed Nagito against the counter behind them, feeling Nagito’s hardness graze his inner thigh as he went. _The only easy thing about Nagito is this._ Hajime almost found it funny. He started to move his hand towards Nagito’s groin, his other hand exploring the rest of him.

Memories of other times flashed through his head and Hajime realized suddenly- “I’ve never, like, actually gotten you off. Oh my God. I’m terrible.”

“You’re far from ‘terrible,’ Hajime.”

“Uh, yeah, no. That’s pretty bad of me.”

“We haven’t exactly made copious amounts of headway in that area, on either side.” Nagito insisted.

“No, I’m gonna do this.”

“Do what?” Nagito blinked. Realization clouded his eyes and his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. They stared at each other in a terrible, awkward silence for a few seconds. Hajime took a deep breath, counted to ten, and sank to his knees. Nagito made a small noise of surprise. “Er, Hajime-” He started.

“This is gonna suck.” Hajime said too loudly. They stared at each other again. _Fuck. Shit._ He winced. “I didn’t mean it like that! I don’t mean _you_ \- like, at all! I mean me! I’m gonna suck! Well… Yeah, but… Okay, you get what I mean. I’m gonna _suck_ at sucking dick. I’ve never exactly done this before and I’m not really a fast learner and wow, I’m making this even worse, aren’t I?”

“Not at all, Hajime.” Nagito offered helpfully, despite the overwhelmed look on his face saying otherwise.

“Okay.” Hajime composed himself as best he could and started on Nagito’s pants. He tried recalling what he was _supposed_ to do with his mouth in this situation, but every other time in his life where a blowjob had been involved had been one where he wasn’t… in a very present mental state. _It can’t be that hard. It’s a dick. I have one of those. Just… dick in mouth right? How does Nagito make this look easy? Piano and shit aside, when he starts going off about “no talents” I have another thing I can call his bluff on. Why did I think this was a good idea?_ Hajime unzipped Nagito’s - _surprisingly tight_ Hajime thought- pants and pulled his dick out. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth and- _okay I got this. I can do this._ He thought to himself.

Nagito hissed in pleasure as soon as he was in Hajime’s mouth. Hajime was fairly sure Nagito would fake the whole exchange not being terrible for Hajime’s sake, but he wasn’t sure how to address that without making it more awkward. He continued until he could feel his spare hand holding Nagito’s hips back. He decided he could spare a peek up, so he opened his eyes and glanced upwards. Nagito was out of it.

The injured hand was thrown over his mouth, masking the sounds it could. His free hand was gripping the counter with white knuckles that contrasted the deep pink his cheeks had turned. A shock of confidence shot through Hajime. _Okay. Well he doesn’t_ look _like he’s faking. Maybe he actually isn’t._ He felt a bit more confident when he realized that Nagito was going to last an even shorter amount of time than he had. _Although, I’m pretty sure more of that is Nagito than any kind of skill I have. I think he’s just like that._

“ _Hajime_ , I-I’m going to…” Nagito seemed to be having difficulty forming the last word.

“Cum?” Hajime offered, stopping for a moment.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, _please_ .” Nagito sounded much less playful this time. Hajime swallowed his laughter and turned back to Nagito’s groin, a smile lifting his cheeks. Just a few, short seconds later, Nagito went silent, a noiseless gasp opening his mouth before he crumbled. A taste like crushed medication invaded his mouth, different than what he’d expected. He swallowed and stood up. “A-Ah. ‘Not a fast learner.’” Nagito mumbled a little, running his good hand through his hair. He offered Hajime what was left of his tea, now cold from sitting on the counter. Hajime drank it, quickly. “You don’t have to put yourself on equal ground with me, Hajime.” _Well apparently blowjobs are a bigger deal in Nagito’s book than I assumed._

“Er, yeah I do. That’s sort of how healthy relationships work.”

“But then we’re being inconsistent.”

“What?”

Nagito just looked at him for a few moments. “You have a secret, too, don’t you, Hajime?” His voice was slow, careful. “I’ve exposed myself.”

“...Oh.” Hajime blinked, suddenly fidgeting. “Yeah. I do. You’re right.” He mumbled. Nagito didn’t back down like Hajime had expected him to in the situation. Like Hajime had _hoped_ he would.

“What’s your secret, Hajime?” Nagito was leaning too close, green eyes clear and strangely intimidating. Hajime hesitated.

“E-er… Can I tell you later?” He tried weakly. Nagito was silent. “Uh, we should sit down.” Hajime pointed to the lounge downstairs. Nagito pursed his lips, but followed, anyway. _You’re just stalling, come on._ Hajime’s brain was yelling at him. He was backed into a corner. He _owed_ Nagito this. And now he was too scared to return the debt. Nagito sat down, head tilted and legs crossed, watching Hajime intently. “So, erm, as you know, I played for many years before we started playing together.”

“I’m aware.” Nagito frowned in confusion. _Now you’re just using obvious facts to stall. Great going. Keep it up, this is going super._ Hajime was starting to think his brain was too sarcastic with him sometimes.

“W-well, I played for awhile solo, but then Chiaki and I started playing together when I was about thirteen or twelve. I know you’ll never meet her, but you have to believe me that Chiaki was the most amazing person. She was so kind and patient and talented. Like, she’d play something I could only ever dream of playing and then somehow teach it to me like it was easy. We clicked really well. Like how you and I do, but right off the bat, I guess.” Hajime scratched his knee, words getting caught in his throat. “Um, so the competition where you and I met was a big deal. Chiaki had been going for this really prestigious college music group and her advisor basically told her that the win would guarantee her entry.” _Justifying actions?_ “So the big day rolled around and Chiaki didn't win the competition the two of you were in, which was fine since she still had our duo and everything was going great. But er, then we found out we were sharing a room with Korekiyo and Kirumi. They were our biggest competition and rivals for years.”

“And then Chiaki cheated, I know the story, Hajime. So what’s your part in it? Did you cover for her? Did you write the online hate for her? Banish her to wherever she is? I don’t understand.”

“Nagito,” _This is going to hurt. He doesn’t understand._ “I… _I’m_ the one who cheated.”

 

 

Dead silence.

 

“Nagito?”

The other man was staring through him, a gaze that Hajime had never seen on him. A look that told Hajime that Nagito thought of him as little more than dirt beneath his shoe. He coughed on the air’s tension, nerves crawling through him. “I think I may have misunderstood you, Hajime.” His voice was cold.


	7. The Beginning and End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I had some spare time between classes today and wrote 10k words so here is another chapter I guess lmao. I'm pretty sure this story is officially longer than Unbreakable Flight now, which feels crazy! Anyway, thanks for reading and I'm sorry for updating so soon and with a longer chapter than usual.  
> *EDIT* I also cleared up some of the mistakes I made in my spelling and word choice last night. Sorry about those and hopefully I caught most of them. :)

**-Four Years Prior-**

_That was fucking terrible,_ were the only words floating through Hajime’s mind as he tried to reflect on his solo competition. _How the hell did anyone let me decide that Shostakovich’s second waltz is a remotely good idea without an accompanist that I know?_ He packed his violin up and started towards Chiaki’s section. Room 4D. The hotel lobby was crowded with musicians and Hajime walked through gingerly, holding his violin in front of him, rather than behind. He couldn’t risk getting it broken or stolen. He found her despite the crowd and tapped on her shoulder. “Oh! Hajime!” She waved.

“Nervous?” He raised an eyebrow. Chiaki shrugged.

“A little bit, but that’s probably normal. This competition means a lot to me.” She tilted her head, watching Hajime with big eyes. “Soo, how’d your solo go?”

“It was shit. I’m not used to playing something with someone who isn’t you. And I chose a rhythm heavy song which was really, seriously stupid.” He groaned. Hajime had always felt comfortable being himself around Chiaki. It was a relief after leaving the competition area, where everyone was expected to be in good spirits and perfect behavior. Chiaki offered a comforting pat to the head. It should’ve made Hajime feel like a child, but instead it made him blush.

“I’m sure you did fine. We have an hour before I have to start waiting, wanna stop by a practice room?” She asked.

“Sure.” Hajime answered, response ready no matter what her question had been. Hajime had never been very good with crushes and he was starting to realize how difficult he found it to tell Chiaki no. She offered a hand and they walked to the closest designated practice room. Very few people inside were actually practicing; most of them had just finished and were waiting more for results than anything else. Chiaki sat down in a chair and pulled her DS out. _I should tell her to practice, but… I_ really _can’t tell her no. She’ll give me those puppy dog eyes. It’s not like she needs it, either, I guess._ Hajime recalled Chiaki winning her last competition with a score of 94 while second place had scored an 87. “What are you playing?”

“Here, you can try.” Chiaki handed him the DS. Hajime hesitated. _I want her to think I’m cool and hardcore sucking at her favorite hobby does_ not _make me look cool._ He took it anyway. ( _Great, another time where I don’t say no like an idiot.)_ The game was a racing game and Hajime was trying desperately to figure out the controls while a countdown started on the screen. “Gas is the down button.” Chiaki offered helpfully.

“Ah. Got it.” _Except I don’t got it._ Hajime played through a race, running into obstacle after obstacle and eventually driving the wrong way for awhile. He looked up to see if Chiaki was watching him fail spectacularly and felt a surge of relief when he realized she wasn’t. Chiaki’s eyes were trained across the room. He followed her gaze to a young man about their age, sitting at the hotel piano and practicing. A bit of jealousy followed the relief.

“He’s fantastic.” She mumbled, just enough for Hajime to hear her. The relief overpowered the jealousy when Hajime realized she was watching him for his skill. “His rhythm is terrific, Chisa would be going crazy right now.” Chiaki giggled. Chisa, her piano instructor, had been a longtime obsessor over rhythm. Like Hajime, Chiaki preferred melody and often did her best to incorporate it into their duos. She’d already picked out their next piece, Violin Concerto in A Minor. She’d learned it before Hajime, since she knew how frustrated he could get trying to teach others. She checked her phone. “It’s getting kind of close, I’m gonna go to my competition- _oh!_ ” Chiaki pointed at the floor. A single penny was lying on the ground, shiny against the generic carpeting of the hotel.

“Hm?” Hajime frowned at the penny.

“Y’know, like the saying. ‘Find a penny, pick it up, all day long, you’ll have good luck.’” Chiaki explained. “It’s a good sign, I think.”

“Alright, pick it up.” Hajime laughed. Chiaki’s tendency to get excited over the little things in life was endearing to him. He’d often found people who could get fascinated with strange things quickly to be rather interesting. Chiaki shook her head.

“No, you should. For your violin score. I feel pretty good about this competition.” She waited for Hajime to bend down and pick it up, so he did. He held it up as if to prove that he’d done it. She laughed a little. “Okay, good luck! Come find me afterwards so we can run to the duo.” She stood on her tiptoes to reach Hajime’s cheek and kissed it. She left quickly, sheet music and DS in hand. Hajime was glad she left the room so she would avoid seeing his sudden resemblance to a tomato. Chiaki and him had been a “ _thing_ ” for a few months now, but he still felt like a middle schooler around her. It didn’t help that he didn’t have much relationship background from high school to go off of. He sent one look back at the young man playing piano and left the room with his violin case.

He realized that he’d forgotten his tuner in the other practice room and he went to look for it. Fortunately, it was exactly where he’d left it before his last competition. He breathed a sigh or relief and picked it up, starting to put it back in his case. As he straightened back up, he caught sight of Korekiyo and Kirumi standing a little while away. He grimaced. They were the biggest rivals him and Chiaki had ever faced. While wins constantly swapped between them, the tension stayed strong. Even Chiaki, who had the sportsmanship of a saint would join in Hajime’s disses about them after competitions sometimes. He knew Korekiyo and Kirumi did the same. He’d even heard them gossiping about his solo choice earlier. He frowned and turned away from them back back towards room 4D. _I’ll meet Chiaki there so we can go straight to our duo._ It didn’t take him long to find the room again. He pushed the door open, briefly inspecting the “Piano 15-17” sign posted on it.

The young man who played the piano earlier was sitting in the far left seat, eyes nervous and shoulders tense. His breath caught when Hajime walked in and he felt bad, realizing he must have startled him. “Hi.” Hajime sat next to him and they connected eyes. “Are you competing?” He asked the question even though he knew the answer, already.

“Yes, and you?” The young man nodded, posture suddenly looking much more comfortable.

“Er, no.” Hajime thought about how to explain the situation. “I’m just waiting on someone. I’m a violinist.” Thinking about Chiaki reminded Hajime that in just a few moments, she would be walking out of the door next to them and they’d be heading towards what was most likely the most important competition they’d competed in so far. He started tapping his foot to hide his nerves.

“Ah, so is your competition finished?” The young man questioned, green eyes clear and genuinely curious. He seemed off in a strange way, like he was trying to walk on eggshells around Hajime. _I have no idea why he would. It’s not like I even know who he is._ He frowned and nodded.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a duo in thirty minutes and my pianist is in there.” He gestured vaguely towards the door. He could just barely hear Chiaki’s solo piece through the thick wood and wall plaster.

“Oh. Well, good luck.” The young man swallowed nervously. Hajime glanced down at his pale hands. They were trembling just enough for it to be visible. _Poor kid’s a nervous wreck. You’d think he’d just seen a ghost or something._

“Nervous about competing?” Hajime tried to break the ice a bit more, make him a bit more comfortable. He remembered Chiaki doing the same for him when they first started playing together. The young man gave a slight nod, eyes looking distracted. “Don’t be. Chiaki saw you practicing earlier, she said you were really good. And she’s got a good eye.”

The young man straightened up and blinked in a mixture of surprise from the words and the flattery behind them. “Ah. Th-thank you.” He stammered. Something about seeing his face lit up gave Hajime a fluttery feeling in his heart. There were very few people that Hajime felt comfortable around from the first time he met them. This young man was definitely one of them. Hajime dug through his pocket for the penny Chiaki had given him. _This guy needs it more than I do, judging from how nervous he is. He’s acting like how I did the first time I met Chiaki. I was a mess._ He offered the penny to the young man, who opened his palm for Hajime to drop it into.

“Here. I found it earlier and picked it up for good luck and all that, y’know? I only needed it for my solo, so you can have it if you want. ‘Cause pennies are good luck or whatever.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure?” The young man asked with glistening eyes. Hajime chuckled.

“Dude, it’s one cent.”

“Thank you, er…” He trailed off, waiting for Hajime’s name.

“Hajime Hinata.” Hajime offered his hand but the sound of a creaking door echoing slightly in the small room interrupted the action. _Oh! Chiaki!_ He stood up and started walking over to her, waving a quick goodbye to the young man behind him. “So how was your solo? Hajime asked, putting an arm around Chiaki.

“It went really well, I think. I feel pretty confident.”

“Good! Um, we should-”

“Get to our duo?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. They walked to the next practice room together and checked the roster. “Great.” He grumbled.

“What’s up?” Chiaki tried to peek over his shoulder.

“We’re sharing a room with Korekiyo and Kirumi.” He sighed and pushed the door open. They were already inside, practicing loudly. He sat down at the other end of the room with Chiaki, who took a seat at the piano bench. Hajime took his violin out and tuned it quickly before putting it to his neck and letting Chiaki count off for them. They began playing their piece together. It was Claude Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1, arranged for a piano and violin duet. It really focused on Chiaki’s strengths, which was part of why the two had picked it. Talented as he was, Hajime still wasn’t as good as Chiaki. The opening notes of the song began, but with each note, it felt as though Korekiyo and Kirumi’s playing was getting louder. _Purposefully_ louder. Hajime glared at them across the room. Korekiyo smirked back.

“Ignore them, Hajime.” Chiaki shook her head, continuing to play. “I know that we will win this.” She sounded so confident that it almost scared Hajime. _But what if we don’t? What if we lose everything because of me?_ A dose of anxiety was coursing through his blood, starting to make him sweat. _She’s by far the better player. And she’s relying on me because it’s a duet. If I… If we lose…_ He took a sharp breath, deciding not to think about it.

A few minutes later, solo violin results were posted. Chiaki and Kirumi left to wait for piano results. He passed them on the way to his own, waving happily at Chiaki. _My solo was never that important to me, anyway, I suppose. It was more so I could stay at a level to compete with Chiaki than anything else._ He caught sight of the young man in the crowd, his wispy hair making him stand out. He considered saying hi or asking if the penny had worked, but he caught sight of Korekiyo ahead of him and made a beeline for the sheet, instead. He waited in the crowd until he could get close enough to see and- “Holy shit!” He laughed under his breath. He’d come in second, despite the terrible performance he was sure he’d given. Korekiyo had come in fourth. He smirked. _There must be someone here wishing me some serious good luck._ He thought to himself. He never considered the possibility that that person might not be Chiaki.

He struggled his way over to the piano scores through the crowd. “Second.” Chiaki was suddenly beside him.

“That’s great!” Hajime smiled, but Chiaki’s face was somber.

“Kirumi came in first.”

“Oh.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Go on ahead, I’m gonna use the restroom.” Chiaki sounded more like she needed some space than anything else, so Hajime just nodded, leaving her be. _This isn’t good. Chiaki needs a first place to qualify for that group she wants to get into. So she_ needs _to get a first in our competition._ Hajime wondered if he should have comforted Chiaki more, but it was hard to insist when she looked that sad. He took a breath and entered the practice room, surprised to discover he was the first one back. Hajime glanced at Korekiyo’s violin case. He was one of the musicians dumb enough to constantly leave their instruments out in the open, where the elements could get to them.

Hajime sat down in his chair and plucked through a few sections of the piece. He messed up repeatedly, until his fingers were starting to burn and his head was growing foggy. He groaned and set his violin down, putting his head in his hands. _Chiaki needs to win this. She’s wanted to get into this group since she started playing._ It was a European music group that held auditions for international musicians often. They had recently lost their pianist and Chiaki had been obsessed with joining since.

 _What if I mess up and ruin this for her?_ His brain asked him. He was fidgeting, rubbing circles into his arms nervously. _What if I ruin Chiaki’s dreams for life?_ He stood up. _Fucking hell, the only way we have a guaranteed win would be if Korekiyo and Kirumi suddenly decided to drop out and like hell that’s happening._ His eyes fell on Korekiyo’s violin.

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind before he wanted to hit himself for even considering it. _What the fuck am I thinking?! Musicianship has_ always _, and I mean always, been important to me._ His eyes strayed back to the violin.

 _But there are things more important than morals._ Hajime’s mind reminded him. _There are things that are worth doing anything for… Is Chiaki one of them? Make the decision._ He swallowed, feeling his palms start to sweat. He’d have the perfect cover. All he had to do was leave the practice room afterwards no one would ever even know that he’d done anything. He couldn’t even think of how many times he’d sat with Chiaki, helping her sort through applications and requirement sheets. All the times he’d listened to her talk wistfully about Europe and taking her piano career further. _Maybe… Maybe I have to do a bad thing to do the right thing._ His brain settled. _I should have been a better musician, so that none of this was an issue. But I practice from four until eleven six days a week and I attend every single practice and- Well it doesn’t matter. I’m not good enough to get Chiaki where she needs to be. But now I have the opportunity to change that._ He took a step towards the violin.

_Do it. Do it for her._

He took another step closer and he was there. His hands hovered over the instrument for a moment, before he decided he was too far in to turn back. Hajime left three of the strings untouched, but turned the tuning peg of the E string twice. It would sound horrendous on stage. If Korekiyo didn’t bother to tune before he went on… well, then they’d have it in the bag. _What the fuck am I doing?_ Hajime blinked at the violin. He took a step away from it and pushed the door open, leaving in a hurry. He found the nearest bathroom and went into a stall, shutting the door behind him and putting a hand to his head. _Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck did I just do?!_ He felt his eyes start to burn. _I’ve hit a new low._ He realized. His phone rang, making him jump. “ _Shit_.” He muttered under his breath and pulling it out to answer.

“Hajime? Where are you? We have to be practicing right now. Everyone else is here.” She sounded mildly stressed. Hajime apologize, rubbing his temples.

“Er, sorry. Headache. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and started back towards the practice room. When he arrived, he found Chiaki playing piano and Kirumi and Korekiyo on their phones, looking up the schedules. It didn’t look like either of them had touched their instruments. “Wanna go over it again?” He could tell by her face the answer was yes. While Hajime had definitely never felt like he particularly struggled with understanding others, he’d always found a certain grace in how easily him and Chiaki seemed to understand each other. He’d come to start thinking that she might be the only person he’d ever get that close to in a relationship. They ran through Arabesque No. 1 a few more times, focusing on the parts they struggled with. There was a certain degree of anxiety that came along with sharing a practice room with Korekiyo and Kirumi. Hajime felt as though he didn’t just have to play well, but he also had to put on a face of confidence. One that was difficult to muster. Years of being on the stage had taught him how to fake it to a crowd, but he knew how much easier crowds are to lie to than people who know you better than you want them to.

Someone knocked on the door, alerting them that competition would be happening soon. Hajime and the others filtered out of the room, instruments and music in tow. They sat down in the room where the concert would be held, other competitors on all sides of them. Chiaki and Hajime sat next to each other, exchanging glances as new musicians came in. Hajime knew most of them, although some were a few new faces who’d just become old enough to compete in the category. He checked the roster, frowning. Him and Chiaki were the last to play. Not only was that the worst spot from a competitor’s standpoint, but it also forced him to stress over his… _indiscretion_ the longest. He fidgeted through the first ten duets, leg shaking and eyes scanning over every inch of the room, desperately hoping he wouldn’t see any suspicious eyes pointed at him. He knew it was foolish. He _knew_ no onw knew what he’d done, but it still… It felt…

“Korekiyo Shinguuji and Kirumi Tojo.” A judge called and the two walked on stage. Icy dread was starting to flood Hajime, drowning him in the anxiety. _Is it too late for me to take it back? Oh my God, it’s too late. I cheated._ Hajime’s eyes snapped open. _I cheated in a national competition. What the fuck did I do?_ His entire body went still. _I love Chiaki, but… I went too far. I just wanted her to win, but holy shit._ He swallowed and watched in despair as Korekiyo pulled his violin to his neck and played the first note of their piece. Hajime felt a surge of relief when he played an A, followed by a G. The melody was getting higher, farther away from the E string. And then, without warning, it dropped.

Even to someone who’d never touched a violin in their life, the note Korekiyo played would have sounded terribly wrong. It rang through the room, startling everyone. By their ages, _no one_ played without a perfectly tuned instrument. It was a rookie mistake in a huge competition of some of the country’s best musicians. It was a mistake that would be fatal to one’s score.

Korekiyo, _to his credit_ Hajime begrudgingly admitted, did what any good musician would do and continued playing. He didn’t request to start over (which would have been denied) or leave the room. From what Hajime could tell, he didn’t even seem flustered by the mistake. _Maybe one of the reasons I find it so hard to pretend in front of Korekiyo is because he’s so good at it._ Hajime felt a little happiness in thinking that the cheating hadn’t brought too much pain to Korekiyo. His guilt had been all consuming enough.

The piece went by horribly with the off notes. The rhythm was terrific, but every low note resounded with a terrible noise that made every competitor and judge wince. It wasn’t until they were done and off the stage that Hajime saw the truth of what he’d caused. Korekiyo was seething, face red with anger. Kirumi was attempting to calm him down, but it wasn’t working. He approached one of the judges in the time before the next performance and talked with them in hushed tones. The judge nodded, mouthed the word “afterwards.” _Afterwards, what? What does that mean? What are they gonna do? There’s no proof that it wasn’t just Korekiyo being dumb and not tuning right. I should be fine._ Hajime told himself, trying to keep his breathing even. Chiaki seemed to notice his acting funny and leaned closer to him. “What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you about it later?” He asked, looking around nervously. He was counting on Chiaki to just want to take a nap after the competition and forget about the whole thing. She sent him a confused look but stopped nonetheless. A few more musicians played and Hajime counted that twenty four in all had gone so far. There were twenty five duos competing. They were next. He took a breath and started towards the stage. He sat down and heard Chiaki sit down on the piano bench behind him. She counted off and the piece started. Chiaki began on piano, playing the tied triplet notes that start it. He began playing the violin part soon after. They worked together in perfect harmony, melody and accompaniment switching places like a double helix in perfect unison, linked by their musicianship. For the five minutes the song lasted, Hajime completely forgot what he’d done. All he could hear and feel and see was Chiaki’s playing and his own. They finished without any mistakes. A perfect run through. Through the sound of the applause, Hajime came to a terrible realization: _I never needed to cheat for us to win._ They did their bows and left the stage. Almost immediately, Chiaki and Hajime were pulled aside by a man with a badge dictating that he worked for the competition. Korekiyo and Kirumi were standing behind him.

“What’s going on?” Chiaki frowned.

“Someone tampered with another musician’s instrument. We will not allow that at this level of competition. Considering you two sharing a practice room with him, you’re the most likely suspects.”

“Oh my God.” Chiaki blinked in surprise.

“How do we know he didn’t just forget to tune?” Hajime raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I was actually discussing the competition with a judge while I tuned. He witnessed me tuning my violin _perfectly_ and agreed with me that it must have been tampered with. I have nothing to gain from ruining my own duet. But you two do.” Korekiyo’s voice was hostile. _He has a right to be._ Hajime frowned inwardly. The man led the four of them out of the room and into a private area.

“Here’s how we’re going to handle this. Both of you can own up if you did it and disqualify yourselves. If only one of you was in on the plan, then you can be honest and we won’t disqualify your duo. If you both claim to have not been involved, then pray that we don’t find any evidence pointing to you during our investigation because the police will be involved at that point.” He looked at Chiaki and Hajime with a stern glance. Hajime and Chiaki looked at each other. _I’ll own up. She’ll be able to keep the score and-_ except Hajime’s mouth wouldn’t move. He stood frozen in his spot. There was a pause.

“I did it.” Chiaki took a step forward. Korekiyo blinked in surprise, eyes turning to Hajime. _He expected me to cheat. No one would have ever thought Chiaki would do such a thing because she wouldn’t. Why is she saying she did?_ “I snuck into the practice room after my piano competition and messed with Korekiyo’s violin. I just… I really needed this competition. I’m very sorry. I’m willing to face whatever consequences are necessary.” Her voice was surprisingly determined.

“Chiaki-”

“Hajime didn’t know. I couldn’t tell him, since he’s not very good at keeping secrets.” She sent a pointed glance his way.

“Wait-”

“Alright. That was easy. Do you want to take police action, Mr. Shinguuji?” The man turned to Korekiyo, who shook his head and turned on his heel, followed by Kirumi. “Your placing in the competition won’t be changed, but this will affect your permanent record and ban you from competing through our circuit ever again. I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointing it is to see a young musician act so juvenile.” The man left without another word. Chiaki turned to Hajime. She was silent. For the first time, Hajime couldn’t understand the look in her eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. _If only I was better at saying no to her._

“Chiaki, I-”

“I should leave, Hajime. It’ll be bad if I’m around when word gets around. I’ll see you later.” She didn’t wait for him, she just walked away. Hajime stayed in the room for almost an hour, hoping desperately that she’d return but she never did. He finally mustered the courage to check their scores and was faced with the horrible irony that they’d won first place. _She’ll never go to Europe. She’s never going to play with the group she wanted. She’ll probably never compete again._ Hajime took a shaky breath. _I ruined her career. I ruined her life._ He stared, wide-eyed and hollow at the wall of scores.

Days passed with no word from Chiaki. Then, she called him. Hajime didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Guilt had been crushing him like a hydraulic press since the competition. _What do I even say to her?_ He couldn’t imagine the words in his head. They were too difficult. She called one more time and then never again. He made up his mind to visit her a few months later and found someone else living in her apartment. He checked with their college only to discover that she’d transferred. Her name was erased from the orchestra roster. People in the competition forums were brutal about her. He stopped checking them simply because he couldn’t stomach seeing the comment threads about her cheating. _None of them even know that she never did anything. Chiaki’s an innocent and the world will never know._

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m afraid I may have misunderstood you, Hajime.” Nagito’s voice was cold. Hajime felt his heart drop.

“N-no, I’m still Hajime. I’m still _me._ I just-”

“Did you cheat?” Nagito asked, looking down at Hajime. He nodded hesitantly. “Then the Hajime I knew was never present.” There was no hint of affection or warmth or even mercy in his voice. True to his word, Nagito sounded as though he were talking to a stranger. A stranger that he hated. Hajime choked on air at his words. He’d never imagined himself begging Nagito for any kind of forgiveness or in honesty, feeling like he was at Nagito’s mercy for anything. Within mere minutes, the dynamics of their entire relationship had completely shifted. “I hate cheaters. People like you are low.” Nagito narrowed his eyes. “Lower than me.”

“Holy shit, Nagito, calm down. It’s not like I’m a different person. I fucking cheated, okay? Once. It’s not like I’m some sort of, I dunno, fucking serial killer or something.”

“That would have at least been interesting.” Nagito’s voice was even, thin. It wasn’t anger that was crackling inside of Hajime, but it was starting to feel like it. His defensiveness against Nagito’s sudden attacks on him was overriding his emotions.

“What the fuck?” He snarled. He _hated_ that he was the one yelling. He hated knowing Nagito Komaeda, crazy-weirdo-can’t function Nagito Komaeda, was acting calmer than him. It was driving him even crazier.

“I think you should go, Hajime.” Nagito’s voice didn’t dip at his name like it usually did, it almost seemed to skip over it.

“Okay, _fine_ .” Hajime stormed upstairs, threw his things into his bag and went out the front door, not bothering to look back at Nagito. He got into his car -the only car there- and started it. He could see Nagito in the kitchen window, watching him leave with steely eyes. _Fucking prick._ He thought to himself and pulled out of the driveway and started the long drive home.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Hajime was called in to meet with Shuichi. His first thought was that Nagito had told Shuichi about everything. _Based on his reaction, that’s not unreasonable. What the hell am I supposed to say if he confronts me about it?_ Hajime spent the drive there thinking of excuses. When he got to Shuichi’s office, Nagito was leaving. The white haired man bumped his shoulder on the way out without so much as a glance in his direction. He grimaced and sat down in one of Shuichi’s chairs. _Well then my suspicions were correct. Fuck you, Nagito._ “I’m so sorry, Shuichi, I can explain everything-”

“It’s alright, Hajime.” Shuichi frowned with a weird look. “Musicians have falling outs all the time. Nagito told me that the two of you had a fight.”

“Er, yeah. You could call it that.”

“About his arm?”

“Uh…” Hajime blinked, surprised. _Well at least Nagito’s good for something. I’m surprised he kept my secret._ “Yeah.”

“Well, it’s unfortunate timing. I had planned something rather important for the both of you.”

“‘Important?’” Hajime raised an eyebrow.

“A competition in South Korea. I thought taking your music to the next level -international- would be something the two of you could both do and enjoy.”

“I’d love to, it’s just…” Hajime trailed off, eyes darting to the gap in the door where Nagito had left. Shuichi seemed to grasp what he was saying.

“Er, yes. Nagito refused. I did, however, convince him to join our orchestra as a percussionist and pianist for a few weeks. Until then, I have the option to still enter you both. It’s a little waiting time for him and a little cool-down time for you.”

“No, I think you’re right. I think I need some time just back with the regular orchestra. I don’t think playing with a partner is for me.” Hajime sighed and stood up. He said a goodbye to Shuichi and headed off towards orchestra practice. It had been a long time since he’d been only a full time member of the orchestra. Now that him and Nagito weren’t working together (he assumed) and he didn’t have a solo planned, he felt like he was back in college, right after Chiaki had taken the fall for him. He settled down in his seat with the other violins, tuning and going over the music they’d been rehearsing over the last few months when he’d been doing his duets or taking care of Nagito. _Nagito._ His brain’s voice was sour. He glanced behind him to see Souda leaning over Nagito’s shoulder to teach him the marimba part.

 _I never expected him to react so violently._ Hajime thought, watching Nagito. _It’s not like he even has the right to act like that. Since day one, Nagito’s been morally ambiguous and emotionally unpredictable and then I confide in him once about something I did years ago and suddenly it all means nothing? I fucking took care of him, I gave him an arm for God’s sake. He spent all that time trying to get me to treat him like shit and I never did and then he starts doing it to me because of my past. Which is rich, considering he blames himself for the murder of his parents, which means he literally thinks my cheating once is on par with that. Then again, I guess he’s always had screwy morals._ Hajime frowned. Nagito had noticed him watching. He approached him, eyes narrowed and movements calculated. _What is he doing?_ “Ah, Hajime, how are you?” He asked.

“Great.” Hajime responded.

“I was just thinking about how wonderful it is that because this is a group setting, there’s really no advantage to anyone to cheat! We wouldn’t want scum like that dirtying our ensemble.” His voice was obnoxiously upbeat.

“Hm. Great point, Nagito. I was actually thinking about how I hope the arm that I gifted you doesn’t act up while you’re playing mallets.”

“Don’t worry, Hajime. I’m aware I’m ungrateful. It can’t bother me anymore than all the other problems I have with myself.” Nagito smirked and walked back to the mallets. _Fucking dick. He’s probably playing like, marimba six or something and still thinks he’s all high and mighty. What an asshole._

The rest of the week went in a similar way. Nagito would make rude remarks or smart comments to Hajime in a pleasant tone and then leave. However, the worst came in a few more days, when Nagito began ignoring Hajime. Strange and sometimes frustrating as Nagito had been, his fascination with Hajime had been flattering in a strange way, building his confidence more than anything else since Chiaki. He’d sometimes find things of Nagito’s at his house and they’d spark an emotion in them that he hadn’t felt in years. It took him a little bit to realize what it was: regret. He made up his mind to amend things with Nagito. To just ask him to lunch or coffee after orchestra and they could talk things out. _I spent this whole time treating Nagito like he’s not my equal, like he doesn’t have a right to be mad at me. When he definitely does._ Hajime mustered his confidence and walked into the orchestra room that day. He looked around. No Nagito.

He tuned his violin and had a conversation with Gundham. Still no Nagito. The entire practice passed with a distinct lack of fluffy white hair. Shuichi approached him afterwards and asked if he knew where he was. Hajime said he didn’t, but a prick of nervousness was bothering him. It seemed like every time that Nagito disappeared, he was off getting himself hurt. A few moments later, Shuichi told him it was nothing more than a personal matter and Nagito would be back in a few days.

 _What if his arm’s infected? He was always really bad at cleaning it._ Hajime thought, putting his violin away. _A few days is a lot of time for someone who doesn’t have a life outside of music. But it’s not my place to check up on him, anymore. I can’t keep doing this._

 

* * *

 

 

While Hajime was worrying about him, Nagito was in the passenger side of Rantaro Amami’s green car, driving back to the university they’d both attended. Rantaro was trying to keep Nagito’s spirits up, but Nagito’s mind had been broken since his encounter with Hajime. Everything he’d looked up to, the figure he’d practiced and played for for four years… a fraud. A cheating fraud. The man he’d loved had never been what he’d wanted him to be and now he had to face that fact. Nagito’s hope had been crushed. His hope in someone who understood him. His hope in finding a love that didn’t destroy himself or others. His hope in being happy with someone. _I should have known._

Nagito had considered (and not briefly, either) telling Shuichi everything. Reporting Hajime. But he had two issues. One, the most pressing, no one would take his word over Hajime’s. Hajime was a respected musician who’d been with the orchestra for many years. Nagito was a newcomer who’d already established himself as emotionally unstable. Secondly, well, secondly… _I can’t. I want to hurt Hajime like he has hurt me, but I can’t. I’m too weak._ He hadn’t discussed any of it with Rantaro, but the green haired man had picked up on Nagito’s angst, though he wasn’t sure what it was about at all. He assumed Nagito had done poorly at a practice or something. Or, there was always the possibility that, “You’re nervous about going back?” Rantaro questioned. Nagito blinked. _I hadn’t even thought of that yet._

“I suppose.” Nagito picked at a thread on his pants. “I was always nervous at college when I was there, so perhaps this will be the same.”

“You were nervous? I always just thought you kinda didn’t care.” Rantaro laughed, eyes focused on the road. Nagito let out a weak laugh. _Ah. Sure._ “But, hey, dropout or not, you’re still a former student who’s done some cool things, they’ll be excited to meet you. Also, you get to actually go do cool stuff. I’m just giving a lecture on personality theory for two hours, you’re gonna go sit in with their ensembles and everything, it’s wild.”

“Do you mind if I join you at the end of the day? I’d like to say hello to some of my professors.” Nagito stared out the window. Whether or not they were upset with him for leaving college, he didn’t know, but he did know they’d been the first people to give him an avenue of self awareness besides music. He was grateful for that. “Oh!” Nagito murmured, seeing the sign for their college. It was a prestigious liberal arts school. Many students from Nagito’s highschool had been bitter that he was the only one to get in, considering he never seemed as though he was working as hard as any of them. Or like Rantaro said, it had always seemed like he didn’t care; his mind was preoccupied with his own problems or music rather than academics. He regretted that, slightly, although he’d never let Hajime or Shuichi or anyone else know. The only thing that had stopped him from regretting dropping out was playing with Hajime and now that it was over, he had started to wish that he would have just finished his degree and finished learning about psychology. Him and Rantaro split up to go their separate ways.

Nagito wandered his way over to the music hall, bitter nostalgia creeping in as he walked past all the buildings he’d visited so many times years ago. _I’m only 23. There are still students here who are probably my age._ Nagito caught sight of his own dorm window from a break in buildings across the campus. He’d spent most of his time playing the piano in his dorm or studying. While the other students had assumed that he didn’t care about psychology because he was always playing piano more often, it was actually the opposite. He felt as though the music brought the psychology to life. As desperately as he wanted to understand himself, Nagito wanted to understand his peers even moreso. It was a difficult cycle to remove oneself from. He opened the door and immediately heard his name. “Nagito Komaeda!” A voice came from in front of him. _Oh. I’m in trouble. I probably shouldn’t be here._ He turned around to leave, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. The hand turned into a hug. Nagito just stood stiffly, unsure what to do. They pulled away and he realized it was his music director from the two years he’d played piano in his college ensembles.

“A-ah, hello.” He did his best to smile.

“Everyone is so excited to meet you, Nagito.” He smiled warmly and started filling out a name tag for Nagito. “When they heard a pianist from our school was competing, the students insisted on keeping up to date and following your win.” His director showed him to a door that he knew led to the lecture hall where they had done classes on music theory when he attended. He’d never had the time to take any of them, but he’d always wished he had. “Now, just to warn you, there also some pre-med students here. A lot of them keep up with what Kokichi Ouma posts in medical journals and considering the rumors that you received surgery from him,” _There are rumors about me? People bother to talk about me?_ The idea confused Nagito. “Some of them just want to ask you questions about that. But if it’s too much, just let us know and we’ll have them stop.”

“N-no. It’s fine with me.” Nagito blinked, opening the door a little. He checked his watch. There were still ten minutes before he was even supposed to begin answering questions. _There will probably be a dozen or so people._ He prepared himself. _A dozen isn’t terrible. Even at my level of mediocre public speaking, I can handle a dozen students._ He pushed the door open completely and walked inside.

The lecture hall was full.

Nagito felt his face go red. _I never assumed this many people would even remember my name, much less come to listen to me talk in an ill-prepared presentation._ His hands were shaking. _I’m going to be such a disappointment to them._ He realized, trying to take even breaths and approaching the podium. _I have ten minutes, but the seats are filled so I might as well begin. “_ Er, hello.” He spoke into the microphone. He wasn’t used to doing much talking in front of crowds. Normally, at competitions or concerts, someone else introduced him or the person he was playing for did. It was terrifying but exhilarating at the same time. “I’m Nagito Komaeda. I attended this school three years ago. I, erm, studied psychology with a concentration in psychopathology. I also… dropped out going into my junior year. I hope that’s not a disappointment to anyone. I have been told there are some questions for me, so I’ll answer those. Hopefully, I have some answers for everyone.” There was a second where not a single hand went up. Nagito sighed in relief. _This is more comfortable. This is what I know._ But then, a dozen or so hands shot up and stayed in the air. He called on someone towards the front row. Anxiety was starting to eat at him. _What if they find out? That I’m an imposter. That I shouldn’t be here. What if that’s what they’re asking? Or I don’t know how to answer and that tells them?_

“I was wondering how you pick out your jazz pieces? I’m a rhythm heavy player, too, and you’re definitely the best pianist I can think of at picking out jazz tunes to play solo. Your rendition of Blue Rondo really blew me away and I was just wondering what you would recommend looking for?”

“A-ah,” Nagito mumbled. No one ever asked him questions like these. His very few and only friends were all professional musicians, themselves. Either through pride or skill they never asked him how to be more like him. _No one has ever wanted to be more like me._ “Well, I look for strange time signatures, first. That’s how I chose Blue Rondo. Nine eight is good if you want to keep the audience on edge. Six eight is good if you want to have them feel the swing of the music, more. I’m partial to eight notation. I’m sorry if that was not helpful.” Nagito called on someone else. They asked him about tips for accompanying without overpowering. Then, someone asked him about how different competitions were from professional concerts and which one he preferred. They asked him about double majoring in music and his favorite composers. With every answer, Nagito’s anxiety faded. For the first time in his life, he was surrounded by people who understood at least a part of him. People who were just as passionate. As excited. He felt a pricking pain behind his eyes and he blinked to stop it. Finally, someone asked about his arm.

“How is your recovery? When do you think you’ll compete again?”

“My recovery is going well. I will most likely never regain full movement, but I am able to play again, which is a relief. I’ve been selected to compete at a Korean competition in about a year, but I’m still hesitant to confirm my spot there. I also haven’t discussed it with-” Nagito stopped. _Oh_. “Erm, my partner.”

“What was working with Hajime Hinata like? He’s one of the best violinists alive.” A student in the back asked. Nagito faltered. He closed his eyes and took a breath. Normally, he’d feel cornered. Attacked. He’d get defensive and cold. But unlike most times, he was comfortable. He felt at ease and at peace with the people around him. Nagito opened his eyes.

“It was complicated. I’m not sure if Hajime wanted to work with me at first. I’m fairly sure he didn’t, actually. He’s very selective about pianists and I wasn’t even nationally ranked at that point. But we did work well together. He took care of me when I hurt my arm. It was very kind of him to do so, especially since I never asked for his help when I needed it. However, we’ve recently been taking some time off to focus on our orchestra and personal lives.” Nagito thought about his next words very carefully. “Hajime is a… very talented musician. He can make music come to life in a way I’d never seen before him. But working with someone so closely can also be difficult, so I think it’s best that we’re taking personal breaks right now.”

The panel ended an hour and dozens of questions later. Nagito felt good about it. He felt content and as he talked with handfuls of the students afterwards, he realized how happy he was to have gone. Never before had Nagito felt so at home. He started towards the hall that he knew held the psychology classrooms, afterwards. It was a tall, ornate building that contained philosophy, religion, sociology, and all the other things Nagito had found exciting but had never had the time for. He found the room where Rantaro was sitting with some other former psych majors, answering questions about future career options. He continued walking through the building until he found the office of his favorite professor. He knocked on the door a few times until they opened. “Ah, hello Professor Kirigiri, I don’t know if you remember me, but-”

“Nagito Komaeda, come in.” She interrupted him. He smiled and followed her into her office and took a seat. “I heard you’d be coming back for one of the career panels. So you really did become a pianist?”

“Mm, yes. Although, I’m not sure whether or not I’ll be able to continue at the level I was playing at.”

“Why not?” Kyoko raised an eyebrow, shuffling some papers on her desk.

“I lose the use of my hand for a few months. I had surgery, but my mobility is still limited, so… I may not play competition pieces for a long time.”

“Ah.” She frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.” While her face didn’t betray any actual sympathy for Nagito’s injury, he knew it was there. He’d always liked how straight faced Kyoko was. It made her easier to understand than most, in his opinion. “Well there’s always a spot for you here if it doesn’t work out.” She offered. Nagito’s word spun on its axis, her words echoing in his head.

“ _What?_ ” He blinked.

“You can always apply for re-admission, Nagito. You’re still within your five year limit to keep all your psychology and biology credits, too.” Kyoko frowned. “Someone should have told you this when you left.”

“But… I-I dropped out.”

“I know. Fifteen percent of our students do. You can always apply to come back and finish your psych degree.” She turned her computer on and began typing in his name, fingers flying quickly over the keys. “You need two more years of psychology, another semester of biopsychology, and two semesters of French to finish your FOL. After that, you could finish your degree.”

“Oh. O-Oh, I…” Nagito stared down at his hands. “I didn’t know that was a possibility.”

“We’d always welcome you back, Nagito. You were one of the most gifted psychology students I ever had and I don’t compliment lightly. If you make your decision, contact me and I’ll put in a good word for you to Admissions.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hajime hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to live without Nagito. He was used to his presence around the house. His teacups in the sink and his books left on the coffee table. Guilt had combined with the feeling of loss to gnaw at his insides every time he wasn’t distracted. Between Nagito’s leaving and digging up the feelings of Chiaki again, Hajime felt like he was being crushed by the weight of it. Nagito had been gone from orchestra for three days and no one had heard from him besides Souda and Shuichi, both of whom simply said he was out on personal business.

A week later, Hajime needed to check the spelling on a another violinist’s name and he approached the roster hanging outside the door. He braced himself to skim past the “K” section, as the name “Komaeda” had started to leave a sour taste in his mouth. Except, it didn’t come. Rather than relief, he felt confusion. He searched the list again. No Nagito Komaeda in sight. It wasn’t a mistake, he knew that much.

Hajime drove straight home. He walked to his room and sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling. _Did I scare him away from music?_ The thought was terrible. Hajime pulled his knees to his chest. _I-I… I never meant to do that. I never meant to take that away from him, or this orchestra, I just…_ Hajime frowned. _He’ll be back soon. I’m positive._ He was sure of that. He had to be. _I’m positive Nagito will return once he’s had a break and even if we don’t play together again, it will be fine because he’s gonna play with someone else and enjoy his life and it will be okay._

A week passed with no Nagito. Then a month. Hajime’s apartment felt more empty than it ever had, before. He’d tried having company over a few times, hosting poker nights or house practices with other members of the orchestra, but it didn’t fill the void. Souda had come over to watch TV for awhile one night and about an hour after he’d left, he was knocking at the door again. “Oh, Souda, I’ll be there in a second.” Hajime called out, getting up slowly from the couch. _He must’ve forgotten something. He always does that._ “So was it your wallet or your phone this time?” He laughed, pulling the door open.

“Hello Hajime.” Nagito Komaeda was standing in the hall, shoes wet from the rain outside and hands in his pockets. Hajime stared blankly. It had been over a month since the last time he’d seen Nagito. “May I come in?” He glanced inside. Hajime opened the door wider. He couldn’t find the right words in his head, each of them exploding into a jumble of letters as he tried to figure out what to say to the man in front of him. Nagito took a step inside and looked around the apartment, as though it was his first time seeing it. His eyes rested on the trophy case, a smirk playing on his lips when he saw the trophy they’d won together. “I apologize for my absence.” He turned around to face Hajime.

“Where were you?” Hajime’s first words to Nagito weren’t poetic, like he’d hoped they would be. His tone was harsh. Angry. So was he. Nagito smiled thinly.

“Mm. It’s difficult to explain.”

“Well try.” Hajime pushed.

“I came to apologize, Hajime.” Nagito didn’t sit down, which forced the situation into a formality Hajime wasn’t used to with him. It forced Hajime to look up at Nagito when he spoke. He didn’t like it. “For my distance and my lack of explanation. And for what I’m going to tell you. I won’t be competing in South Korea. Actually, I won’t be competing at all. I’ve decided to drop the competitive circuit. I won’t be in touch often as I’ll soon be very busy, but if there is something pressing you need from me, feel free to call. Of course, I don’t assume you’ll want anything to do with me.” Even after the self deprecation, there was still a new confidence and ease to Nagito. _He looks comfortable in his own skin._ Hajime realized.

“I-I don’t believe you. You love music.” Hajime took a step closer.

“I’m a dreadful liar, Hajime. You should know that by now.” Nagito shrugged. “I’m not angry with you, anymore. But I am disappointed. I’d hoped you were something I could look up to.” Nagito sighed in defeat. “But that’s my own fault, isn’t it? You never claimed to be as great as I built you up to be. Goodnight, Hajime. It was nice knowing you.” Nagito turned on his heel to leave. Thousands of unanswered questions burned in Hajime’s mind. His heart was reeling with anger, confusion, shock, and sadness.

“Wait!” Hajime called. Nagito froze. He turned around slowly. Hajime suddenly understood with a clarity he never would have thought he’d have why Nagito was quitting music. As he stared into the green depths of Nagito’s eyes, he understood him. His motives, his reasoning, his actions. At least for that millisecond between them, Nagito was no longer a mystery, but a man. Nagito had become human.

Nagito’s eyes were shining with a vulnerability and a pain so bright that Hajime could feel it in his chest. _If I ask him to right now, he’ll stay. He’ll rejoin orchestra. He’ll play in South Korea._ The words almost left Hajime’s mouth before he could stop them. _No. I won’t do that to him. For the first time that I’ve ever seen, Nagito seems completely comfortable with who he is. He’s not trampling over his insecurities or desperately trying to damage himself. He’s just… existing. Peacefully. I have no idea where he’s been or who or what did this to him, but it’s a good thing. When Nagito was hyper-focused on me, his personal growth only happened through me. He was growing and evolving, but… he only did in ways that benefitted me or came from what I told him. No human should have to exist based on someone else. The Nagito standing in front of me is a Nagito who’s grown strong on his own._ Hajime knew he had the power to take that away from him. He knew Nagito would let him, even if it killed every part of him. But he didn’t. And looking into Nagito’s eyes, he could see that the white haired man knew this. The fear in his eyes was a fear that Hajime would do just that. Hajime let out a shaky breath.

“Do… Do you want an umbrella?” He asked. The rain outside was loud.

“A-ah.” Nagito smiled, eyes rimmed red. “I have a raincoat,” He gestured to the green jacket he was wearing and pulled the hood up over his hair. “But thank you, Hajime.” He waved once and left. Hajime felt a lump in his throat. His eyes travelled to the same trophy Nagito had been inspecting. It was sitting next to the one he’d won with Chiaki. _The beginning and end of everything._ He mused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! This is NOT the final chapter! I realized after writing this that because of the length and way it ends, that it kinda seems like that, but it's not supposed to be! There will be more chapter(s) arriving as soon as I can write them! Also, I'm sorry this fic is coming out so long omg. Thanks for reading and have a great day!


	8. Freedom and the death of time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry I'm physically incapable of posting on a normal schedule kjrfkjf. I was studying for six hours today and wanted to take a break and this happened, so please enjoy!! I really hope you like the chapter and thanks so much for reading! Sorry again for posting at a weird time and on a nonsensical schedule, haha.

Four months passed with no contact between Hajime and Nagito. As per Nagito’s request, Hajime hadn’t called once. He never received a letter or a postcard. No e-mails. Nothing. Nagito had once been a ghost in Hajime’s life because he knew nothing of his past. Nagito had since become a ghost because Hajime knew his past but was starting to believe he’d never know his future. A big part of him hoped that Nagito would go into a new career or hobby that would allow his life to be detailed in papers or forums again. Even if it wasn’t competitions, at least public concerts or composing. Hajime found himself secretly Googling Nagito’s name for the first two months. There was never new information. Nagito had somehow managed to stay low profile despite being himself. 

When the third month hit, Hajime found himself Googling less for a variety of reasons. Primarily, it hurt. Every time he googled him, it brought up videos of their performance together or photos of Nagito in concert. While he knew Nagito was most likely fine and healthy somewhere out in the world, seeing his photos still brought on a strange sort of grief. Secondly, Hajime had begun to convince himself that Nagito was living away from the media on purpose.  _ He must have found some community where he feels like he fits in and does well. Somewhere where he’s doing well.  _ And finally, Hajime was becoming absorbed in his own life. Orchestra was picking up and he had been granted a solo spot in their upcoming concerts by Shuichi, not to mention the solo work he was doing for the competition in South Korea. He’d noticed a category that had no prerequisite wins for original composition. Partially out of interest and partially as a distraction, Hajime decided to begin composing. 

He quickly realized that he loved it. He was working on a piece in nine eight that was a possibility for the competition. While Hajime had never said it aloud, the time signature had become his silent nod to Nagito. A never spoken lament that he wasn’t the pianist who would play the piece. He would stay up late almost every night working on it until he could barely keep his eyes open. But the fatigue never bothered him other than the frustration that it got in the way of his work. 

One night in the fourth month after Nagito had left his apartment, Hajime heard his stomach growl over the piece he was painstakingly picking out on his violin. He rolled his eyes at his body and stood up, walking to the kitchen. He opened his Ramen drawer to find it empty.  _ Shit. _ He got out a bowl and started to pour a bowl of Cheerios but only a handful fell out of the box. He threw out the box and sifted through where he kept energy bars. None. Hajime had been so absorbed in his own creative energy that he’d forgotten to buy groceries for the past week. He grimaced and threw on his coat, getting ready to brave the outside. 

Luckily, the snow wasn’t bad, so he was able to get to his car fairly quickly and make his way to the grocery store. He parked and walked inside, grateful for the cover it created from the elements outside. The store was dead. Classical music was playing on the overhead speakers, suddenly audible without the sound of footsteps and carts being pushed around each aisle. A man was mopping the floor and a young woman was flipping through her phone with a bored expression at the cash register. Hajime checked his phone. It was two in the morning.  _ No wonder I’m hungry. _ Hajime thought, grateful it was a 24 hour store. He wandered through the aisles, picking up various snacks and grocery items. He stepped into the freezer section to search for toaster strudels when the music playing overhead caught his attention.  _ I know this piece. _ He frowned.  _ La Campanella. Liszt.  _ He’d never had a problem with the song, but something about the way the violin echoed in the empty aisles combined with the brisk air of the freezer section to create an unsettling atmosphere that made Hajime glad he was almost finished shopping. He grabbed a box of cereal and wheeled quickly to the cash register, unloading his items onto the conveyor belt with strangely tense hands. He vaguely heard a girlish voice. “What?” He blinked. 

“I said, paper or plastic?” She rolled her eyes. She chewed her gum loudly as she scanned each item, pigtails bouncing when she leaned over to put things in bags. He didn’t answer and she didn’t seem to care.

“Um, have we met before?” Hajime frowned, squinting slightly at her face. 

“As if.” She didn’t bother to look up. The young woman was humming along to La Campanella as she packed the groceries up. She handed Hajime his bags after he paid. For a moment, they connected eyes and Hajime felt a chill down his spine. He took the bags quickly and walked as fast as he could to his car.  _ Something about that woman was very… unsettling.  _

 

* * *

 

Nagito Komaeda was having a celebratory drink with Rantaro Amami a few hours away. He was sitting on the floor, back to Rantaro’s couch with a beer in his hand and a thick envelope in the other. The first time he’d received that envelope when he was seventeen years old had been one of the last good moments he’d spent with his parents. He was grateful to Rantaro for being there with him to dull bad memories. He took a breath and reopened the envelope, scanning the words.

_ Dear, Nagito.  _

_ Thank you for your interest in reapplying to Hope’s Peak University, we’re excited to welcome you into our incoming class of juniors, starting at second semester after our winter break.  _

It continued but Nagito had read all he needed. He smiled lightly. After he’d been accepted, he’d called Professor Kirigiri to go over his credits and is boarding. He’d get a single dorm, which he thought was a good idea.  _ I’ve never been very easy to live with and I’ve never enjoyed having a roommate besides Hajime. _ Nagito frowned. The other man was crossing his mind more and more as time went on. After he’d left Hajime’s apartment four months ago, he hadn’t dwelled on the incident past the first week or so. At first, there had been regret and guilt and an overwhelming need to run back and ask Hajime to take him back for their duo. But he didn’t. It had taken a long time for Nagito to see Hajime as an equal. He’d been a deity in the beginning; untouchable and could do no wrong. Then suddenly he soared down to the level of whatever creature could be below Nagito. But after his final conversation with Hajime, Nagito had realized strongly that they were equals. Humans. Despite what he’d done, Hajime had still cared for Nagito. He was still one of the only people Nagito felt safe with. But he still wasn’t necessarily the angel Nagito had built him into. 

“Want another beer?” Rantaro asked, standing up to sift through the fridge. Nagito shook his head. 

“I’m okay.” Nagito ran his hands through Rantaro’s living room carpet. His hands brushed a discarded rough draft of the paper Rantaro was writing.  _ Jungian psychology. _ He wasn’t sure what compelled Rantaro to study industrial psychology and personality theory in grad school, but he knew it wouldn’t be pulling him anytime soon. He’d always been more focused on studying what was wrong with people more than categorizing them.  _ Maybe that’s why I’m so dreadful at understanding others.  _ He laughed a little to himself. 

“When do you start?”

“In a few months. Late January, I think.”

“Huh. Excited?”

“Very much so.” Nagito nodded slowly. “Although I’m nervous. College was a difficult time for me, even back when I was the same age as everyone around me.”

“I think a lot of the problems you had were because you hadn’t really matured yet. You’re older now, but I think it’s a good thing.” Rantaro shrugged. He pulled some frozen pizza out of his fridge and started microwaving it. He came back to the couch when it was done and turned on the TV to a true crime show. Nagito leaned back and felt a sudden pain shoot through his arm. He sat up straight and examined his arm. No marks besides the scars from his surgery. Fortunately, he’d had the stitches removed shortly after the fight he’d had with Hajime. He hated cleaning the wound and without Hajime to do it, it was either that or face infection. “You good?” Rantaro raised a pierced eyebrow. 

“Er, yes. Just a cramp.” Nagito blinked and set his arm down gingerly. He’d been getting pains in it for almost a month now, but they’d always just been dull aches after a day of using the hand too much. They’d never felt sharp, before. He turned his attention back to the show in front of him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hajime finished his piece for the original composition category at seven in the morning. He’d been stewing over the ending for almost a week when he suddenly woke up one morning with the perfect melody in his head. He wrote in the notation, added it to his copy on his computer and collapsed onto his couch, feeling like he could rest for the first time since he’d started. He’d expected a feeling of relief, but it wasn’t what he received. He’d  _ loved _ working on the composition and he was fairly sure he was going to start composing something new as soon as he got the okay to enter the one he’d just finished from Shuichi. It had also served as his distraction from Nagito for the last four months.  _ With this piece being done, I actually have the time and mind to think about him. About everything that went wrong.  _ He turned his head to the trophy case across the room. 

_ You’ll probably never see him again.  _ He realized with a shock that made its way through his entire body.  _ Nagito’s weird, sure, but he’s smart. If he wanted to leave behind this life, he could easily do it. He’s not just a musician like you or like Chiaki was, he’s got psychology and even if that doesn’t work out, he’s inherited so much money that he could really do or be anything.  _ Hajime sat up, gripping the arm of the couch.  _ If Nagito wanted to, he could disappear.  _ The realization was a bucket of cold ice down his back. Tears pricked in his eyes. Hajime grabbed his laptop from the coffee table and opened it, going to the internet and searching Nagito’s name. Hajime knew that with his ranking and from how long he’d played, there had to be a video of him playing. Even Souda had ten or twenty videos online of him competing and from when he did a drum line. Hajime hissed in a breath and pressed the enter key. Sure enough, videos popped up.  _ You’re being a stalker.  _ His mind mocked, but he ignored it. He told himself that Nagito was enjoyable to watch play, even besides the current circumstances.  _ Very few musicians are that connected to the music they play, much less visually so. I’m just watching as a fellow musician.  _

Most of the videos were not surprises to him. Nagito playing at jazz clubs or Nagito accompanying some other musicians. However, towards the bottom of the first page of results, there was a short video, only about five minutes, that drew in Hajime. The camera quality was poor but Nagito’s mess of hair was recognizable. “Claude Debussy - Arabesque No. 1” the title surprised Hajime. That piece had been his final duet with Chiaki. He’d never known that Nagito had ever played it, before. He clicked on the video and turned up his volume, waiting for it to start. From the moment Nagito walked into the shot, Hajime felt a pain in his heart. It had been easier to forget Nagito when he wasn’t present. When he didn’t have to see the way he walked, graceful but with just enough slowness to seem hesitant in his movements. Even the way he pushed the hair out of his eyes as he sat down was an action so tragically familiar to Hajime that he almost felt sick watching it. 

Nagito’s shoulders tensed and he began playing. Almost immediately, Hajime realized he was different. The Nagito of this video was even more self conscious and faltering than the Nagito he’s first met, much less the Nagito he’d said goodbye to. Usually when Nagito played, there was a certain easy swagger to his movements like he’d forgotten that he hated his own skin for just a moment. There was none of that as this version of Nagito began playing. His shoulders were stiff and he was sitting up too straight in his chair. Even just the way his suit was slightly too big for his thin frame made him seem breakable. His rendition was amazing. Hajime checked the date of the video. Nagito would have been eighteen. Hajime wondered idly if Nagito had chosen it after seeing him and Chiaki perform it.  _ Is that egotistical to think? I don’t mean it that way.  _ Hajime watched Nagito finish his piece and stand up, bowing to the crowd. His face showed under the pixelated mess of his hair and Hajime froze. 

For the first time, he remembered Nagito. He’d technically  _ believed  _ Nagito that he’d been there the day Chiaki took the fall for Hajime, but no matter how many times he’d tried to think back on the day, he’d never been able to genuinely remember Nagito being there. But seeing his face at the age he would have been that day changed things. He was paler, smaller, somehow even more gaunt than he already was. Hajime had remembered thinking Nagito looked disheveled and unhealthy the first time they’d met in Shuichi’s office, but seeing him just months after the death of his parents, Hajime realized it could have been so much more extreme. He’d seen Nagito as an obstacle at first. An eccentric, interesting obstacle, but still an obstacle. When he’d met Nagito that day so many years ago, he’d seen him as a nervous person in need of help. _ Well actually, I still thought of him like that up until the last few times I saw him. Nagito always seemed unaware and misplaced. I think that’s part of what made him so painfully awkward sometimes. But… seeing him look so fragile and knowing what happened to him just months before, I…  _ Hajime blinked back the tears that had started earlier, again.  _ I didn’t appreciate Nagito while he was mine. Because he  _ was _ mine. Nagito offered himself in his entirety to me and I just took him at face value. He’s easily one of the strongest and most complex people I’ve ever met and I tried to treat him like a normal person and got frustrated when our philosophies didn’t match up.  _

Hajime rubbed his eyes, groaning.  _ I didn’t want to think about this right now.  _ He picked up his phone.  _ I’m gonna call Gundham, see if he wants to do anything. I’ll get my mind off of all this.  _

 

* * *

 

 

Nagito was walking through Target alone, assembling the things he needed to get in time for his move to his campus apartment. He wanted to buy them in advance, just in case. Nagito had always been a planner. He checked out and waited at the bus stop. He hadn’t bought a new car, yet, since the accident. He’d been intending to get back into driving with Hajime’s car but  _ that is not in the question, anymore.  _ He rode the bus to the closest stop he could get and walked home. 

By the time Nagito set his bags down, his wrist was hurting him, pains flaring up through his fingers. He rolled his wrist slowly and stretched his fingers as best he could, using his good hand to help. He frowned at the hand and decided to ignore it.  _ The pain is a metaphysical karma aimed at you for the things you’ve done.  _ His brain fell into his usual habits, but he was getting better at ignoring that, as well. 

He read for a few hours until a call from Rantaro disturbed his peace and he answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey, so my class for tomorrow got cancelled, wanna chill?”

“Er, okay.”

“Cool, I’m coming over.” Rantaro hung up. Nagito’s house was about three hours from Hajime’s apartment and Rantaro lived somewhere in the middle between them. It was slightly over an hour on either side, but because he’d grown up driving his sisters everywhere, the drive had never been much of a detractor for either of them to hang out. Nagito was just happy to have someone to be with.  _ I got spoiled with Hajime. I got so used to having someone around that I can enjoy the company of.  _

Rantaro showed up at Nagito’s house about an hour later with some takeout for both of them. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, watching TV and playing Uno until Rantaro took a heavy breath. “Hey, Nagito, can we talk?” His voice was careful. 

“Depends on what about.” Nagito played a green five. His entire hand was green, save for a draw four wild card. Rantaro laid a blue five over it. 

“About whatever happened. You’ve been acting different for, like, months. It’s starting to stress me out.”

“Hm.” Nagito laid down the draw four with a pointed look at Rantaro that said something along the lines of  _ don’t ask personal questions.  _ Rantaro and Nagito had always had a comfortable friendship because they could count on each other to keep secrets and never dig too deep. Nagito couldn’t understand why Rantaro would choose to ruin it. 

“It’s just, you seem really happy about going back to university, so I don’t think it’s that, but… you’ve been acting really differently. And with my sisters, I-”

“Uno.” Nagito interrupted him. Rantaro sighed. 

“Fine. Whatever.” He played a skip and the game continued well into the night. Eventually, it got too late for Rantaro to come home, so he agreed to spend the night. Nagito set up the guest room and left Rantaro to sleep. He walked downstairs to his piano and stood in the doorway, watching it as if it might move. 

Nagito had always had a terrible habit of seeing  _ her _ at the bench. Junko had the sort of effect on people that made them see her in places where she really wasn’t. He could still remember the way her long nails felt on his skin when she’d change his hand positions. The way her perfume smelled. She’d been the first person to show any interest in him and until Hajime, she’d been the last. The day Nagito had come home to find his parents murdered, he’d smelled that same perfume as he’d opened the door and felt  _ excited. _ Junko listened to him. She’d given him music. He still hated the part of himself that felt that excitement as he’d pushed the door open. It hadn’t been a shock to learn that Junko’s kindness had been act, just a painful feeling of  _ I should’ve known.  _ Nagito sat at the bench and pushed the key cover back into the piano to reveal the keys. He rested his good hand on the middle C, first, before taking a breath and letting his bad hand rest on the other side. He ran through some basic scales and chord progressions, doing his best to keep his tempo even and his fingers from trembling. The left hand had a tendency to shake when he played, now.  _ My hands never shook when I played music, before.  _

There was a certain piece that had been floating at the front of Nagito’s mind for the last month or so.  _ Well, truly it’s thirteen pieces.  _ Nagito had learned Kinderszenen when he was eighteen or nineteen and almost immediately, it had become one of his favorites to play. It was almost twenty minutes in length, which was something Nagito enjoyed. More chance to play and a longer piece to delve into. The emotions that were conveyed with each note fit his own life. The song was thirteen pieces written for piano, combined into one collection of music that was supposed to reflect on the composer’s childhood and past. Nagito dug through his folders for the sheet music and set it on the stand, closing his eyes and starting to play. He still knew the first four measures by heart. Fortunately, the piece started off slow, giving him time to get his bad hand used to playing it and a little stretch before the endurance test of the next eighteen minutes would follow. Nagito lost himself in the music. Each new section brought up memories, some good, some bad. He was surprised to find himself thinking of Hajime in a few parts. He never would have thought that Hajime and him would have become so close for Hajime to be such an important figure in his memories of the last year and even before. He could feel the memories starting to burn and twist into darker emotions, burt fortunately the next section of the piece changed. He was slowly realizing that the burn he’d felt may have been something else. Nagito purposely ignored it. 

The eleventh piece of the composition was approaching quickly. It had been Nagito’s favorite for a long time. It was called Fürchtenmachen, the German word for “frightening” and with good reason. About a quarter into the section, the tempo would suddenly pick up into a swell that faded just as quickly. The pain was growing stronger as Nagito continued towards it. He grimaced. He could feel the lift of the music in his chest and he brought his hands down harshly on the keys, the almost frantic sounding melody appearing and disappearing just as fast. On the final note, the pain turned into a feeling like thousands of bees stinging. He pulled his hands away from the keys with a hiss and stared at his bad hand. The fingertips were a purplish shade and the pain wasn’t fading. Nagito hesitated.  _ I don’t want to go to the hospital. I’m sure there’s nothing they can do. But I don’t want to lose my arm. Hajime would know what to do.  _ Nagito thought bitterly. He held his arm close to his chest and walked up the stairs, trying his best not to bump it on anything on his ascension. He started to walk into his room, but was interrupted by Rantaro walking into the hall drowsily, scratching the back of his neck with a groggy expression. 

“Oh, Nagito, hey sorry I was just getting a glass of water- woah, what’s up?” Rantaro was suddenly much more awake, gesturing at the arm Nagito was cradling. 

“Nothing.” Nagito shook his head and started to turn back towards the stairs. “I can get you water.”

“Hey, I’m not buying, turn around.” Rantaro crossed his arms, walking over to Nagito. He put a hand on Nagito’s shoulder until he faced Rantaro and held out the arm. “Hold on a sec,” He pulled his phone out and turned the flashlight on in the dark hallway. “Shit.” He blinked. 

“It’s fine. A little discoloration is normal. I’m rather tired, Rantaro. I thank you for your concern, but I’ll be-”

“Yeah no. Your arm is purple, Nagito. I’ve seen it red, yeah, but this is… not normal. You need to go into the hospital.” Rantaro turned the phone light off and grabbed his keys from the guest room. “Come on, let’s go.” He pulled Nagito along with him lightly. Nagito silently cursed God for making his only close friend at the moment a big brother. The drive to the hospital was fairly short but it seemed that with each passing mile, the pain in his arm was increasing, screeching at his nerves until he could barely recognize they’d reached their destination. Rantaro did the talking while Nagito stared at his arm with wide eyes.  _ Why are you doing this?  _ He asked it in his head.  _ You’re supposed to be fixed. What’s wrong with you? Haven’t you taken enough time?  _ His thoughts other than that had been mostly consumed by the pain in his arm. 

They ran an x-ray and contacted Kokichi. The phone conversation was long and tense and ended with what sounded like frustrated doctors on both sides. Rantaro was trying to tell Nagito that everything was most likely fine, but he wasn’t listening, just nodding with a hollow expression.  _ What did I do to tip the scales? After the news about college I was forced to say goodbye to Hajime. I should be even, now. Why is something bad happening?  _ Panic was searing through him with more volatility than the pain. When the doctor came back, he sat down across from Nagito and Rantaro. “Is he okay?” Rantaro asked quickly. 

“Yes.” The doctor nodded, turning to Nagito. “Were you putting any stress on your hand when the discoloration started? Dr. Ouma tells me you’re a pianist-”

“I was playing a particularly tedious piano piece, yes.” Nagito said with a flat expression. 

“ _ Ah _ .” His doctor mumbled, shuffling his papers. He swallowed. “It seems that one of the metal prostheses in your hand was bumping up against one of your original bones. Have you been feeling pain lately?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what caused it. Tonight, you just put too much stress on it and caused a hairline fracture. That’s the pain you’re feeling. The little piece of bone shard is causing the nerve pain and oedema, which makes your arm change color.”

“Oh.” Nagito mumbled.

“Dr. Ouma thinks it’s best if you have a follow up appointment with him, but until then, I’ll give you a brace for your hand to protect it. Unfortunately, his office is in Switzerland. It may take some time until the next time he visits the country, so until then, you can see some of our local specialists, but it’s unlikely any of them will be willing to perform a corrective surgery because of the circumstance.”

“I’ll go to Switzerland, that’s not an issue.”

“You will?” Rantaro and the doctor asked at the same time, a note of surprise in both of their voices. 

“I have the money and I’m currently not employed. There’s nothing holding me here.” Nagito shrugged. 

“Er, alright, I’ll… I’ll call Dr. Ouma. Please wait here.” The doctor left quickly. Nagito could hear him speaking in hushed tones with the nurse outside. Rantaro turned to him. 

“I get you’ve got what your parents left you and all, but… doesn’t this seem a bit extreme? I mean, aren’t you quitting music? What’s the point in going all the way to Switzerland to get your hand fixed when your career won’t need it until that guy gets back?”

“It’s not to get my hand fixed, Rantaro.” Nagito extended his bad arm in front of him, wincing at the pain the action brought. “I think getting away could be good for me.” He tried to flex his fingers and some of them listened, but his middle and ring fingers just trembled violently. The doctor walked back into the room, still holding his phone. “Tell Kokichi I’m available for any time in the near future.”

“Does next week work?” He asked, furrowed brows betraying how surprised he was with the situation. 

“Perfectly.” Nagito smiled. 

 

* * *

 

 

Shuichi called Hajime into his office the day after he’d finished composing his original piece. “Hajime, I’m very grateful that you’ve been so…  _ dedicated _ to your work recently, but, er… I just wanted to check up on you.” 

“What do you mean?” Hajime blinked, third cup of coffee in hand. He could feel his legs trembling from the caffeine. Shuichi frowned at his messy hair and dark undereye circles. 

“Is… Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’ve just gotten  _ really _ into composing later, here I’ll show you-” Hajime pulled his laptop out and started playing one of the pieces he’d written as practice for the composition competition. “I wanna enter one in the competition and I think I really have a shot. Don’t worry, though! I’ve been working on a solo, too. I’ve picked a really hard one so if it sucks, sorry, but I think it’ll be great, also the coffee machine isn’t working and-”

“Hajime.” Shuichi cut him off. “Calm down.”

“I’m totally chill.”

“Let me hear your two solos.” Shuichi laced his fingers and placed them on the desk in front of him. 

“Okay! Great! It’s kind of consumed my life.” Hajime flipped through files on his computer until he found the finished solo he’d composed. He pressed play and waited through the first three clicks of the metronome. The composition started slowly, with almost annoyed sounding spikes in the music that slowly turned into a steady tension-filled rhythm. He turned to Shuichi for his opinion so far, but he was just nodding his head slowly to the music, eyes unfocused. There was a swell and then the rhythm returned, followed by a hopeful swing and a sudden key change into D Major. 

“A key change. That’s ambitious.” Shuichi mumbled, voice not positive or negative. Hajime wished he could find any sort of hint to what he was feeling in Shuichi’s voice or posture, but he was a blank slate. 

“There’s another one.” Hajime said quietly, suddenly self-conscious.  _ What if I did too many? What if I was too ambitious and because I haven’t slept a full night in, like, five days this actually sucks super hard and I’m just hearing it through the lens of too-much coffee?  _ The piece switched back into a minor key and ended on a slow, sad note. There was a considerable silence afterwards. Shuichi brought his hands to his chin. 

“Hajime…” He looked up at the taller man. “That’s terrific. How do you feel composing for orchestras?”

“Um, never done it, but I’d be happy to.” Hajime nodded quickly.

“Would you be interested in composing for this orchestra, then?”

“Holy shit, yes.” Hajime blinked in surprise.

“This was your first original composition?” Shuichi asked, scrolling through the score and squinting at certain sections of notes. “It’s not perfect, but this… this is really,  _ really _ good.” His eyes were filled with a pride that made Hajime’s heart swell. He could feel excitement and pure positive energy running through him. 

“Shuichi, I… Thank you. Thank you so much. This is an amazing opportunity and I won’t put it to waste and-” Hajime took a breath. “Thank you.” He felt pure happiness for the first time since Nagito had left. 

“Can I hear your other solo?” Shuichi asked, handing the laptop back to Hajime. Hajime nodded and took his violin and some music out. He reached behind himself for a stand and took a breath. 

“Erm, before I start… I haven’t really spent as much time on this and I, er, dunno how well it’s gonna go.” He did his best to explain sheepishly, but Shuichi just waved a hand for him to continue. He brought the violin to his neck and began playing. His solo piece, the Devil’s Trill, started slow and fairly easy until it moved to some higher notes. The pacing was methodical and emotionally riveting, but about five minutes in, it changed, suddenly picking up speed and increasing the emphasis of its downbeats. It was less of a rhythmically difficult piece than Hajime could play, but he’d always been more focused on the melody, anyway, and Devil’s Trill was certainly a difficult piece in that respect. 

Hajime messed up in a few places and lost his tempo once or twice by the end. Shuichi nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, you need work, but you’re doing well. It’s ambitious to choose such a difficult solo and compose.”

“I’m, er, assuming that the duet is off the table?”

“That’s a safe bet. I haven’t heard much from Nagito in a long time. I doubt he’s returning to our orchestra, at least for the rest of this season.”

“O-oh.” Hajime had hoped Shuichi had been in contact with him, or that he’d at least have some more information on what the other man was doing. Hajime sat down across from Shuichi. “Um, do you… Do you know what happened to him by any chance?” Hajime asked, hopefully. 

“Er, I… I only know a few bits and pieces of personal things that I’m not allowed to share. But he was alright the last time we spoke, I can tell you that much.” Shuichi’s voice was apologetic. He gazed out the window and rested his head on his chin. “I remember when Chisa first took him in.”

“Really?” Hajime’s eyes went wide. It had been a long time since he’d been able to have a full conversation about Nagito and something about the idea was nostalgic. Exciting. Or at least, he figured it would be interesting to know more of Nagito’s past.  _ It might explain his actions.  _

“We… We were big fans of Junko’s. Everyone was, that’s the thing. We all purposely avoid mentioning her or taking in her students now, but back then… we all worshipped her as a pianist.” Shuichi’s eyes were unfocused, staring off into the distance. “She was crazy. Not like Nagito, though. She was charismatic, confident, she played like someone who’d sold their soul for their skill. Maybe she did. I wouldn’t put it past her.” Shuichi sighed. “But what I’m trying to say is, Chisa was one of the only people who didn’t shy away from the fact that we’d been fans of hers after she killed Nagito’s parents. She offered him a spot in her music school almost immediately afterwards. To work with Junko that closely, you had to be unstable probably, but… still  _ very _ talented.” Shuichi smiled lightly. “She told me he was a fan of yours but I didn’t really take it seriously at first. I mean, you were busy with the scandal after Chiaki and your own solo work, but it all sort of dawned on me that you might’ve needed someone else. I asked Chisa about pianists that were available and she brought Nagito up again. I almost turned him down again, but you know what Chisa told me?”

“What?” Hajime wasn’t sure where the story was going, but something was pulling at his heart. Shuichi laughed a little. 

“Chiaki recommended Nagito as an accompanist for you when she said goodbye to Chisa. Chiaki had asked Chisa to keep it a secret because she didn’t think you’d play well with him if you were forced to. Chisa thought maybe she thought you’d be upset with her.”

“Chiaki…  _ wanted _ me to play with Nagito?” Hajime felt a strange feeling wash over him, like a cool breeze. Shuichi nodded. 

“Chisa had given Nagito his second chance and Chiaki was trying to use him to give you one, I think.” Shuichi sat back up, eyes focusing again as he took a deep breath. “I probably should have told you sooner, but I thought it would be a difficult conversation.”

“No… No, you’re fine, I just…” Hajime gripped one of his knees. “I-I never knew Chiaki talked about me to Chisa or that she…”  _ That she cared enough after what you did to still set up another accompanist in your place. It took four years, but you finally did what Chiaki wanted. You played with Nagito and you grew.  _ Hajime’s eyes snapped open.  _ She wanted me to grow.  _ Realization washed over him. For the first time since it had happened, Hajime knew with certainty that if he walked back four years to the day he cheated, that he’d be able to confidently stand up and defend Chiaki. He wouldn’t falter. He wouldn’t let her take the fall for him like he had done. Strange as his relationship with Nagito had been, he’d taught Hajime a lot about himself. “I need to go.” Hajime stood up. “I’ll be back for practice, but I have something I have to do.” He said a goodbye to Shuichi, shoved his laptop into his bag and zipped up his violin case. 

He walked briskly out to his car and got in, shutting the door to block out the cold outside. He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he was looking for.  _ Thank God I didn’t delete his number.  _ Hajime’s finger faltered over the call button, but he finally hit it and waited as it started to ring. 

 

* * *

 

 

Nagito was stowing his carry on in the overhead compartment when he felt his phone ring in his pocket. He switched it to airplane mode without checking the caller and continued his attempt at shoving his bag into the tight space. When he felt confident that it wouldn’t fall, he sat back down in his seat. 

The plane ride was long, but he’d done worse. Nagito had brought plenty of books to read, so the boredom hadn’t really hit him. When he landed in Switzerland, he was greeted by a driver Kokichi had hired for him to take him to the hotel connected to Kokichi’s clinic. Upon arriving at the hotel, he noticed the grand piano in the lobby and felt his breath catch. While he was finally coming to terms with the fact that he was putting piano behind him, it still brought a note of excitement to Nagito, like a child seeing a toy they used to love, even if they’re too old for it, now. 

It wasn’t until a few days later that Nagito was finally able to meet with Kokichi. He walked into his office and sat down. Kokichi was behind a large desk that made him look comically small. Nagito wondered if it would be rude to tell Kokichi that he thought that was funny. He decided it was. “Let me see it.” Kokichi held a hand out and Nagito extended his bad hand over the table towards him. Kokichi turned it over and examined it closely. “Soo… Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Ah, Hajime?”

“Lanky.”

“Yes, Hajime.” Nagito shrugged. “He is probably at home. We haven’t spoken in awhile.” 

“Really?” Kokichi raised an eyebrow, poking at the bad arm and eliciting a wince from Nagito. “See, if he was here, he’d be all, ‘ _ stop, you’re hurting wittle Nagito _ ’” Kokichi imitated in a falsetto voice. “So it’s good he’s not.” He took a breath. “Well, I’m gonna send you off to x-ray and we’ll see how this puppy’s doin’.” He stood up and opened the door for Nagito. “See ya in a bit.” 

“A bit” turned out to be around thirty minutes. Nagito was called into an examination room, where he was greeted by a wide eyed Kokichi. 

“Hello.” He greeted. Kokichi hesitated before nodding and smiling. 

“Heyo. Sooo, your hand’s fucked, again. Kinda. I mean, it’s not totalled like last time, but, uh… we’ve got a few options. Let’s go over those.” Kokichi leaned against the wall across from the exam chair, suddenly appearing even smaller than before. “So, you’ve got two issues. I’ve got pictures.” He typed something on the computer and turned it around to show Nagito an x-ray of his arm, metal bolts and fake bones glowing an intense white. “Your first problem is that you put too much stress on your second metacarpal from playing too much piano too quickly. I can’t control that and it’s an easy fix. It’s actually a good thing because we probably would’ve never found out about the other thing if you hadn’t come in for this. The second problem is more serious.” For once, Kokichi’s face matched his tone. He was neutral and composed, and in a strange way, more nervous than he’d ever been in front of Nagito.  _ This is a bad sign.  _ Nagito’s mind was wandering. “One of the steel implants is grating on your median nerve. That’s a big nerve that runs from your fingers through your wrist and really, your whole arm. It’s a really,  _ really _ sensitive nerve. I’m guessing you’ve been getting some pain from it?”

Nagito nodded, thinking back to all the strange aches he’d had in the last few months. Kokichi sighed and looked away. His was stony and serious. Nagito wanted him to return to his normal self, it would make the whole situation feel less surreal and terrifying. Instead, Kokichi pursed his lips and looked back up at him. 

“I’m really sorry, Nagito.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Kokichi, I’m alright having another surgery-”

“ _ Nagito _ ,” Kokichi cut him off. “We have two options. You can live with the pain. It will get worse steadily with each year. If you’re lucky, at one point, your nerve will give out and you’ll go back to losing feeling in the hand, but it will still function. Or… Or we can try another surgery that limit your mobility in the hand, but eliminate the pain. Now, you’d still be fully capable of day to day tasks, but…”

“Piano would no longer be possible.” Nagito finished for Kokichi, staring at his hands. He could see Kokichi nod solemnly from out of his peripheral vision. The other man took a shaky breath and his regular self snapped back into him. 

“So, what’s it gonna be?” He spun the x-ray back around and started to log out of the computer. “If you tell me now, I can get you in for tomorrow and you can be on a flight home a day or two after. It’d be a very minimal surgery.” Kokichi raised an eyebrow.

Nagito’s world fell apart.

He opened his eyes, no longer in the exam room. He was at his first piano lesson. Junko leaning over his shoulder and moving his hands into the shapes of the chords he needed to know. “You’re already learning songs. You must be pretty good, huh?” She smacked her gum. Nagito’s heart swelled. No one had ever told him he was good at something like that, before. He practiced well into the night. Every night. And day. Until it became his life. There was a strange darkness at the corners of his eyes. He blinked a few times and suddenly the world was so much clearer. 

He was in his senior year of high school. It was nearly six pm and he was still at school. The practice rooms would be closed in an hour. He’d been running over piano songs for almost four hours after school, now. Normally, he’d try to find some semblance of balance with his homework, but it had been a stressful day. He needed to hear the music, to feel it fill his soul like humans had never been able to do for him. He checked the time and started packing his bags up to start the drive home. He pulled up to his house and started towards the door. As he stuck his key in the keyhole, he could smell Junko’s perfume. He felt relief flood him.  _ I don’t remember scheduling a lesson for tonight. But that’s fine. I need the stress relief.  _ He pushed the door open. 

Somewhere, some more-present version of Nagito blocked the memory.  _ I know what happens next. I’m not reliving that again.  _ He could feel the pain in his stomach where he’d dug the knife in. He remembered the frustration overriding the pain. He remembered turning that frustration into music. Playing until he collapsed from exhaustion or until he couldn’t move his wrist. 

Excitement swelled in his heart. He’d just heard the news. Hajime Hinata’s music director had agreed to let him be Hajime’s new accompanist. Nagito didn’t think he’d ever felt such a happiness, like the world was caving in a beautiful way. Dreams and hopes making one with reality. 

He was knocking on Hajime’s apartment door. Fear crawling through him like worms in dirt. Nagito had never felt like a whole human. Part of the reason he hated himself was because he scavenged off the lifeblood of others like a sewer rat. Junko made way for his professors and then Hajime. All of them had been tools at his use. Tools he used to destroy himself and forge unhealthy relationships of control and instability. Hajime had always resisted and Nagito had chalked it up to him being a supreme being. Kind, patient, talented. Then the ball dropped and he was revealed to be human just like the others. Disappointment followed, pursued by fear. There was suddenly a danger of Hajime being like everyone else. Stripping away the little dignity Nagito had found for himself. And Nagito would’ve let him if he’d asked.  _ I’m still too weak. I need to be strong enough to stop letting other destroy me.  _ He’d prepared himself for the disappointment, felt Hajime subconsciously wave that power over him and then-

Realization.

Cold on his back. Warm in his palms. Like sandpaper on his heart. 

_ Thank you. Thank you, Hajime.  _ The words were silent, replaced instead by the desperate symbolism of his own raincoat. He opened the door behind him, freedom finally his for the first time in his life, and stepped into the darkness outside. It turned bright. So bright his eyes burned. 

“Kokichi?” He rubbed his eyes in confusion. Not the person he’d been expecting to see in his half-awake stupor. Kokichi was flashing a penlight in his eyes. Nagito sat up, realizing suddenly that he was laying on the floor, head in Kokichi’s lap. 

“Don’t fucking do that. You almost gave me a heart attack, Jesus. I can’t have my hand specimen die of an aneurysm before I can even write a good paper on it. Jeez.” Kokichi sighed and pushed himself up from the floor, offering a hand to Nagito. “You passed out.”

“Oh. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Nagito rubbed a hand over the spot of his head that was starting to throb. 

“Alright, well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow about your choices, you should rest right now.” Kokichi sighed.  _ No.  _ Nagito’s brain piped up.  _ There was a point to all that. There was a point to the last piece of Hajime that I saw. Freedom.  _

“I’m free.” Nagito straightened up. 

“Er. Great.” Kokichi frowned. 

“I want to do the surgery. Tomorrow.”

“Ummm… Okay.” Kokichi seemed genuinely surprised. “We’ll, uh, fuck your arm up more than it already is, I guess. But, like, in a good way.” He wrote something down on his clipboard and handed it to Nagito. “No advil or food. A demain.” Kokichi waved once and was out the door. Nagito’s hands shook as he held the piece of paper in his hands and stared at it.  _ I have the freedom to decide for myself now. I’m not living up to anyone’s standards besides my own, now. I’ve made my choice and I’m sticking with it.  _ He left the exam room and headed back to the lobby of the clinic. There was a waiting room there where families gathered and people who were recovering could find something to do. Nagito spotted a piano.  _ Your last chance.  _ He started towards it and sat down. His hand was still throbbing with a violent pain, but he sat at the bench and pulled it closer to the keys. He put his hands on the keys. He started trying to play a song he knew well, but the pain was getting in the way of his tempo. He grimaced. For his last song on piano, he would’ve preferred something complex. Meaningful. Glorious. But the only song that was coming to mind was not one he’d usually associate with those things. It was a beginner piece, one he’d learned years and years ago. But it was doable with his hand. 

Prelude in E Minor by Chopin. It was simple. Slow. Methodical. A stark contrast to Nagito. However, as the piece continued, he realized it was a good funeral piece for his music career. An end to an era. An end to an entire facet of his soul. About halfway through, the piece switches to only right hand for a moment. His bad hand sang in the relief, but the symbolism of it didn’t slip Nagito. The end neared with two handed chords that spanned full octaves. Nagito swallowed, biting back the burning feeling of tears. He finished on the final E minor of the song. It was a whole note. Long and sustained. Beautiful. Tragic. Hopeful. He shuddered in a breath.  _ Goodbye.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKOK I'm really sorry there's still no Komaeda Hinata reunion. I hope the chapter is not a disappointment!! I hadn't realized how long it had gotten and I didn't want to introduce the next part of the story yet, so I decided to end it here, even sans an actual komahina/hinakoma action going on. Also, it's likely that either the next chapter or the one after will be the final chapter of Silence Between and I'll have to find something else to throw my life into, so wish me luck.   
> P.S. As I've been writing, I've kept a youtube playlist of all the songs Nagito and Hajime talk about throughout the fic. Would you guys be interested in me linking that sometime? Thanks for reading, have a nice night! <3


	9. Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH I'm seriously sorry that this is short but I didn't know how to cut it off without messing up the formatting of the next chapter, sorry!! Also this now has more chapters and a higher word count than Unbreakable Flight which seems crazy because I always thought this would only end up being like, three chapter. Sorry that I write too much, I will try to work on being more succinct in future fics. Anyway, thank you so much for reading!!!  
> Also- I just made a twitter, where I will probably post about this fic and other fics (like when I'm updating or whatever) so if you'd like you can follow it at @clemalevenin. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm trying to just, like, totally plug here, it's not my intention. Hope you all have nice days!

After three unanswered calls, two of which went to a dead phone, Hajime Hinata came to the conclusion that Nagito did not want to be contacted.  _ That’s fine.  _ He thought to himself.  _ He has that right.  _ He took a breath.  _ Fuck.  _

The noise of the phone hitting the table as he set it down was too loud, ringing in Hajime’s ears. His eyes ran across the room to his violin. His competition was fast approaching and he still wasn’t confident in Devil’s Trill. He sighed and walked over to his instrument, picking it up to begin practicing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when anything had distracted him from music and yet  _ here I am.  _ He closed his eyes and started practicing different measures he’d been struggling with. It was sixteen minutes in total, which was long for a solo, at least for Hajime. He usually chose more fast-paced, shorter solos. But Devil’s Trill had stood out to him. He wasn’t sure why. He played it through, messing up less than he had in front of Shuichi, but still too often for him to be able to play it in competition. He turned back to his music and started again, at a slower pace. 

He only had maybe a week or so before he would compete.  _ If I had nerves playing at a national competition, I’m gonna be a mess internationally. Especially considering I don’t have- _ Hajime’s mind made a quick turn back to his music. He hit the nine minute mark, where all hell broke loose. Suddenly, the name of the piece gained much more importance, as the trill notation overwhelmed the entire page. Hajime’s fingers were flying quickly over the fingerboard. He was grateful for the distraction. 

 

* * *

 

 

Nagito woke up at six am. He didn’t run through scales in his head or listen to jazz over his breakfast as per usual. He didn’t do the hand exercises he’d been given after his surgery to help with mobility for piano. He simply ate, got dressed, and started the short walk to the clinic through the lobby. He sat in the waiting room patiently until his name was called. He stood up, approached the desk and let himself be led into a small room where a nurse administered anesthesia. 

He was rolled into a room down the hall with much more tile and white in it. He blinked groggily. “Heyyyy, Nagito.” Kokichi leaned into his field of vision, waving brightly. “Be a doll and count backwards from a hundred.”

“One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight.” Nagito frowned. “Ninety-seven. Ninety-six.” He yawned. “Ninety-five. Ninety-four. Ninety-three.”  _ I’m really tired.  _ He thought to himself. “Ninety… two. Nine...t…” Kokichi’s face blurred, his eyelids heavy. He stopped counting. 

Nagito’s eyes opened quickly, but he was alone. There was a sour taste in his mouth and cotton-like feeling throughout his body. He remembered it well. The door opened. “Kokichi?” He blinked, still only half awake and very drugged. 

“You’re alive. Good. How ya’ feeling so far?” Kokichi tilted his head, watching Nagito shrug nonchalantly. 

“Fine. But… last time I had surgery, well, they gave me Sprite, and I hate to be ungrateful, but I’d very much appreciate a soda right now.” Nagito took a breath.  _ Oh yeah. I was gonna work on being more assertive.  _ “It’s imperative I get a Sprite. Immediately.” He nodded in a firmer voice. 

Kokichi did best to hold in the laugh. “Well, I’ll see if they’ve got any. Does it hurt at all or nah?”

“Nope. Not at all! My arm… it’s phenomenal. Wait.” Nagito sat up straighter. He peered at the arm. “Oh. Okay, good. It’s still there.”

“Arms tend to do that.” Kokichi nodded thoughtfully. “Alright, well with that. My work is done and while I love having front row seats to you being a disaster and all that, I have to go. So… bye. Call if it turns green or falls off or something. I’m getting a nurse to bring you to your room.” Kokichi waved once and left. 

Twenty minutes later, Nagito was being pushed through the lobby in a wheelchair, Sprite and medication in hand. He tried t stand up in the wheelchair for the third time since he’d been put in it. “ _ Please _ , don’t do that.” The nurse asked, also for the third time. Nagito nodded and stayed seated. 

“I don’t need a wheelchair. I’m being such, a…  _ burden _ making you push this.” Something about the sentence made him laugh. The nurse just grimaced and swiped his room key for him. She helped Nagito onto the bed, reminded him the schedule for his medication, which he promptly forgot, and then a note detailing it for him when he was sober. He waved a cheerful goodbye to her.  _ Tired. Sleep. Please.  _ His brain was begging but he ignored it pointedly. He reached for the bedside phone and dialled in a number. 

“Hello?” 

Nagito blinked. Silence. Tired. Something was telling him there was something wrong but he couldn’t feel anything besides the weight of his body and it was crushing him. Nagito hung up the phone. He turned on his side and stared at the abstract painting hanging on the wall across from his bed. He hummed a short note and his head hit the pillow with a soft noise.  _ Soft.  _ He thought to himself.  _ Mm, soft.  _

 

* * *

 

 

Across the globe, Hajime’s phone rang in his pocket. He answered quickly, ducking out of practice. “Hello?” There was silence on the other end. A quiet breath. The phone went dead. Hajime stared at the phone in his hand with disappointment. He’d tried to remind himself many times that not every call would be Nagito or Chiaki suddenly waltzing back into his life, but the feeling of disappointment after every spam call still filled his heart. He sighed and shoved his phone back in his pocket, returning to practice. 

Shuichi was talking to the orchestra, so he did his best to be quiet as he found his seat again. “So, as most of you know, Hajime will be representing both our orchestra  _ and _ the country in the upcoming World’s Tournament in South Korea. It’s great news.” He smiled and everyone clapped. Hajime looked around, a smile lighting up his face and making him forget about the phone call. His eyes caught Souda’s who flashed him a thumbs up and a goofy smile. Hajime felt airy and light, like his soul was happy. “When do we leave, Hajime?” Shuichi looked up at him. 

“Er, two or three days, I think. I’m excited.” Hajime grinned. 

“You should be. This is a big deal.”

After rehearsal, Gundham and Sonia caught up with him to invite him out to drinks. He agreed happily. Souda appeared behind them. “Woah! Drinks, I’m in!”

Hajime decided to not tell Souda he hadn’t been invited and the four left together, spending the night out. By the time he crashed at home, he was exhausted, but his trusty internal clock still woke him up at five am sharp the next day.

 

* * *

 

 

Nagito awoke at one pm the day after his surgery and instantly wished he hadn’t. It felt as though his bones were on fire and a clan of angry hornets had taken up residence in his skull. He groaned and lifted himself from the bed.  _ Why does this time hurt so much worse? _ He wondered before coming to the even more painful conclusion that the last time, Hajime had woken him up to make sure he took his meds.  _ I don’t have a Hajime this time.  _ He took a breath, mind still foggy and wandering. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on a bag of his sitting at the foot of the bed. He leaned forward, ignoring the pains in his stomach from all the medication he’d taken on an empty stomach and rifled through it. He was looking for his pain meds or maybe an energy bar.  _ Either would be sublime _ he found himself thinking. Instead, he brushed sheets of paper, wrinkling them. He sighed and started to straighten the papers out with his good hand. He frowned when he realized  _ what _ the papers were. They were sheets from his music collection. He hadn’t cleared out his bag since the last time he’d flown; with Hajime, to their competition together. It was Violin Concert in A Minor. His duet with Hajime. He’d purchased the music on his own time a month before he’d even met Hajime again. Just the hope that they’d get to play together fueled an excitement to learn the piece in its entirety. It wasn’t much, just the accompaniment part, but the sight of it sent a cold feeling down Nagito’s spine and a dark stain on his heart. 

_ What did I just do? _ He stared down at his hands, panic starting to overtake him, increasing his heartbeat until he could hear it in his ears.  _ I made this choice based on the freedom, but I… I forgot. Music is not Junko Enoshima. Music is not Hajime Hinata. For better or for worse,  _ I  _ am the music I play.  _ There were very few instances where the stark brightness of reality shed on Nagito’s ego, but that light was rising like the sun in him.  _ I worked my whole life for this career and even if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, I still earned it. I made this decision without even thinking of myself. I made a terrible decision. A mistake.  _

His hands shook. 

_ A mistake.  _

His parents were dead on the floor in front of him. 

_ Another mistake I can’t take back.  _

The hood of his car was falling in on him, bones crunching in his ear. 

_ Another piece of myself that I’m discarding for no reason.  _

Nagito choked on the brisk air of the room. He grasped at the sheets, reaching for the phone.  _ Call Kokichi. I need to call Kokichi. Maybe it’s not too late to reverse it- _ he reached out instinctively to balance himself with his bad hand and yelped at the sudden pain. He fell back onto the bed, curling in on himself like a deflated balloon, tears racking through his chest, emptying out what little energy he had left in him. He tried to open his mouth and call out. He wasn’t sure to what. Maybe a deity. God. Hajime. Junko. His parents. But it didn’t matter, only a dry, painful sound came from his throat. The emotions and the stress from the last six months were hitting him at once, taking his breath and replacing it with acid down his lungs and crowbars to his arm. Every sob that shook his body seemed to aggravate the newly operated on limb even more. He ignored it.  _ You deserve it. You’re an idiot. You make these choices and you will lie in them to see what you’ve done. You needed to grow but you didn’t need to leave. You didn’t have to give up everything and yet you did, because you were as insolent to yourself as always.  _ There was something even more horrifying about being so alone in an entirely different country that was shocking Nagito to his core, multiplying the fears he had on his own. There was no one to turn to, nowhere he could go for another day or so. Nagito was trapped with the thing that terrified him the most: himself. 

_ I had a decision.  _ He realized.  _ And I made the wrong choice.  _

There was a snap in his mind like a rubber band that had been pulled too tightly. Nagito didn’t feel his common sense drift up to the heavens or notice that he’d gone limp. He stared at the ceiling until the tear tracks on his face dried and the only color around his eyes was the dark circles from his surgery. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there. Maybe a few minutes, maybe a whole day. There was no way for him to tell. He felt empty and numb. He rose to his feet and stared out the window of his room. The snow outside was thick and falling fast, blanketing the streets and people beneath him. Nagito didn’t think anything of it. He looked around the room for his shoes, realizing ten minutes later that they’d been on his feet the whole time. “Oh.” He mumbled, soft and neutral. He glanced in the mirror at his haggard face and stared quietly for a moment. The only indication that he’d been breaking down moments earlier was the slight tremor in his good hand. 

Nagito grabbed the bottle of pills from the counter, reread the note that the nurse had left and swallowed two. He shoved his roomkey into his wallet and started downstairs to the lobby. There was nothing on his mind, for his own protection. When his parents had died, Nagito had learned that sometimes the best internal defense was unbreakable silence. When he reached the lobby, he followed his feet more than his own conscious thought. He found himself sitting at the piano bench. 

Hesitantly, Nagito lifted his good hand to the keys. The outpour of emotions was threatening to start again, but a single emotion was holding them back: hope. Nagito’s favorite of all the things he felt.  _ It’s not too late. Kokichi said there’s only be minimal loss of mobility, so perhaps it will be just the same as before. _ Staring down at his bad hand, Nagito recoiled slightly. It was still wrapped in a large bandage, his fingers unable to move beneath it. He sighed and turned his attention back to his good hand. It was shaking, the entire wrist quaking over the black and white of the keys.

“ _ My hands never shake when I play, did you know that? No matter how I nervous I am.” _ His words to Hajime so many months ago replayed in his mind. A bitter smile played on his lips. So much had changed since their competition so long ago. Without even realizing what he was doing, Nagito’s hand turned to the first few notes of the piece he’d played with Hajime. Violin Concerto in A Minor. He ran through the first few measures, the dam of emotions threatening to break again. He reached the tenth measure with bated breath and-

“So you did end up playing with him?” A girl sat down on the bench next to Nagito. He jumped slightly and pulled his hand away from the piano. 

“I… what?”

“Oh, sorry. Sometimes I sneak up on people like that. I don’t mean to. I’m Chiaki Nanami, we met a few years ago.” She smiled lightly. Nagito’s eyes went wide. 

“Chiaki?”

“The one and only.” She laughed, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Violin Concert in A Minor by Bach. I chose it for Hajime, when we were planning our next duo. I didn’t think he’d keep it around for his next accompanist.”

“How did you know I started accompanying him?” Nagito frowned. Chiaki shrugged.

“A few reasons. I mean, I still keep up to date on Hajime. I know the two of you won nationals. And besides that, not many pianist go around learning just the accompaniment to that piece on their own. And I told Chisa to recommend you to him.”

“ _ Me _ ? Why?” Nagito’s face was blank. He couldn’t think of a conceivable reason why Chiaki would have ever chosen him.  _ I remember Hajime saying that she mentioned my playing once, but that was years ago and we’d only ever seen each other in passing between those times, so I don’t understand.  _

“I’d been scouting for a new pianist for Hajime way before I was disqualified. If the competition had gone well, we still would have to part ways. I was heading to Europe and Hajime’s career was picking up back home. It’s just how things worked out.” Chiaki’s voice was quiet, like there was something she was holding back, or maybe something she didn’t want to say herself. 

“Why…” Nagito closed his eyes, concentrating as best he could on what he wanted to ask. The question had been burning in his mind since he’d learned the truth from Hajime. “Why would you take the blame for Hajime? What was the purpose? I don’t understand.” Nagito looked away. 

“I’m surprised he told you. Well… the truth is,” Chiaki hesitated, frowning and staring down at the keys in front of them. “I wanted to.” Her lips had drawn into a tight line. “I mean, there was a certain level of altruism, sure. But I’m not perfect, Nagito. I wanted out of the music scene. There were so many things I loved more than music but because that’s where my gift was, I got pigeon holed my whole life. I thought moving to Europe would at least spice it up a little, but… I dunno. I saw it as an opportunity, I guess. I wanted to tell Hajime, but he stopped picking up the phone and I guessed he didn’t want me stopping by, either. Where is he?”

Nagito took a sharp breath. “I’m not sure. Apologies.” He kept his voice as even as possible. Chiaki laughed. 

“You’re pissed at him?”

“Ah. I forget how transparent I can be.” Nagito smiled apologetically. “We haven’t spoken in four months and I haven’t returned home.”

“I really wanted him to learn from you. Hajime’s great, but he… he had a lot of growing up to do. Which is normal and healthy, but… if I wasn’t there to help him through it, I thought someone else should be. I thought you’d be a good influence.”

“No one’s ever referred to me as a good influence, before.” Nagito choked out. Even to him, it was a shock to hear. Chiaki nodded. 

“When I was looking for new pianists, I saw you were still enrolled in college at the time, like Hajime. But you weren’t studying music like he was, you were studying… uh…”

“Psychology?”

“Yeah. I thought that was good. I think Hajime gets so into the music sometimes that he forgets about-”

“‘The silence between?’” Clarity pieced itself together in Nagito’s mind, finishing the puzzle he’d never even been aware he’d been solving. Chiaki smiled warmly when she saw recognition cross his face. 

“‘Music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.’ That quote was hanging up in the orchestra room where Hajime and I used to practice when we first began playing together. He always took it at face value, y’know? Like, a metaphor for how rests are important in music. But, I think… well, you get it.” Chiaki and Nagito’s eyes connected. There was a thrill in his heart when he realized that he  _ did _ get it. He’d never been someone who “got” what others were conveying or alluding to, but the haze that usually blanketed the world around him was fading with every word from Chiaki’s mouth. 

In his freshman year of college, Nagito had decided to take a religion course to fulfill one of the social science credits he needed. His professor explained to him that the fruit that Adam and Eve ate was comprised of wisdom. The wisdom to tell right from wrong and hence the choice to choose one’s side. Nagito had written a paper on why eating the apple had been justified. It brought pain and suffering to them, but in the end, they became free thinking creatures, not just extensions of their creator. It was dawning on him that perhaps the choice he’d made had been similar. Wrong in the moment and based on a human need for freedom, but what Chiaki was giving him was the wisdom to see what he hadn’t in the last four months. He’d recited that quote to Hajime once, long ago, referencing his injured arm. But it was clear now what the context of it actually was in their relationship. 

“Why are you two fighting?”

“He told me his truth and I told him mine. It was unavoidable.” Nagito felt suddenly defensive, as if he had to justify his actions to Chiaki. She went quiet. 

“I think I get it. But… he’ll forgive you, you know. If you want him to, he’ll forget it all.”

“While I’m sure you understand Hajime better than I, I am still fairly positive that he wants nothing to do with me. I gave him enough good reasons. We said our goodbyes.” Nagito’s eyes raked over the hotel lobby with a glazed look. “I’ve never been a perfect being to him like you were. Which is justified, as I’m not. To him, you were an angel. That’s how he forgave you. I’ve always been human. Perhaps less than that. He’s treated me with more respect than I ever demanded, but I still-”

“Jeez.” Chiaki’s eyebrows shot up. “Nagito, I’m not an angel. Neither are you or Hajime or anyone else. We’re all just big idiots. That’s kind of how life works.”

“That was,” Nagito struggled with how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Part of our disagreement.”

“Oh.” Chiaki hummed through a frown. “Are you still mad at him?”

Nagito fell silent. He could feel the throbbing pain in his hand and wrist and the fog in his head. The pain he felt in his arm was one similar to the pain he’d felt in his chest when he’d learned the truth from Hajime. The coldness and the adrenaline inducing tension between them afterwards. He grimaced down at the piano, good hand ghosting the first few notes of the concerto again.With those notes came a warmth Nagito had forgotten. The feeling of someone to fall asleep next to, the feeling of someone who wanted to understand him. Nagito’s hand froze over the keys. 

“No. I’m not angry with Hajime. I miss him.” He said the words for the first time out loud. Chiaki moved closer to him on the bench. “I miss piano.” He mumbled. Chiaki nodded. She knew the same sentiments all too well. 

“Chisa forced you to learn Polonaise, too, right?” Chiaki perked up. 

“Er, yes.” Nagito nodded, remembering how he poured over it, making sure every note was perfect so that Chisa wouldn’t regret taking him in after Junko was sent away. 

“Good.” Chiaki lifted just her left hand to the piano and she played the first few notes of it, which were left hand only. She looked up at Nagito pointedly. The realization that came to him this time was less shocking, but brought with it a comfort he hadn’t felt in months. He smiled and lifted his good arm to the keys. “I thought I would miss piano, too. Granted, I never had the choice to play for fun taken away from me like you did.” Chiaki sighed over the music as they played together. “But once it’s there, it never really leaves, y’know?” Chiaki smiled. Nagito nodded.  _ I do understand.  _

Polonaise was only about six minutes in length, but by the time they finished, a new warmth had settled in Nagito. Hope. “Hajime misses you.” He said without thinking over the fact it may not have been the best thing to say in the moment. Chiaki froze in her place. 

“Will you tell him hello from me?” Her voice was sad, but just enough happiness lined the edges of it for Nagito to know that she missed him, too. “The only thing I regret about leaving is Hajime. But I didn’t have any control over how it worked out. I dunno if he did, either. I think things just kinda word out how they’re supposed to. I think, at least.” She frowned, deep in thought. “I moved here after the whole scandal thing. I’d planned on it for awhile. Europe was more my speed, anyway. I volunteer here sometimes, playing the piano and stuff, but I never thought I’d run into you, here. It’s strange.” She leaned back on the bench, eyes gazing up at the ceiling. 

“Strange.” Nagito echoed, following her eyes to the ceiling. “Maybe we have less paths than we think we do.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Hajime Hinata was boarding a plane to South Korea, violin case in hand. The flight wasn’t bad and he didn’t feel too jetlagged when he landed. Having Shuichi as company helped. The only negative his mind could focus on was his nerves. He was doing his best to tune them out. He was playing the day he landed, which wasn’t optimal, but  _ c’est la vie _ he figured. The next day, he would present his original composition, and by three am the next morning, he’d be on a flight home. It was a packed schedule but it was a good one. He felt confident. Excited. It was a contrast to the strange cocktail of emotions he’d had for the last few months and it was a welcomed change. 

Almost immediately after he arrived, he ran to his room to change into his suit and tie and then back down to the competition area. Hajime waited patiently with the other violinists in the theatre. He looked around. Most were faces he recognized through forums or other competitions, but some were new. Minor press was there, as well as a few well known directors who’d come to watch their musicians play. He’d tried telling Shuichi multiple times that it wasn’t necessary for him to pay for a ticket and come, but Shuichi had insisted on coming. 

It was a relief knowing Korekiyo would not be performing and the usual tension could be avoided. But the scarier thought was that every musician in that room around him was a world class performer. As Hajime looked into each face and saw the confidence and excitement in their eyes, he began to feel like an imposter.  _ I mean, I won some stuff, but I’m just… me. These guys are the real deal. They’re the true musicians of our generation, at least in the classical world, and I’m up here pretending like I’m one of them? _ The nervous thoughts were raining down on him like a dangerous plague. He felt his breathing start to speed up.  _ I shouldn’t be here. I don’t deserve to be here.  _ “I should go.” He mumbled to Shuichi, starting to stand up. 

“Why?” Shuichi frowned. “The competition starts in just a few minutes.”

“I-I… I don’t belong here. I should-”

“Hajime. Listen to me.” Shuichi put his hands on Hajime’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. “You’re not my first musician to go to World’s. You won’t be my last. But I can say with certainty that you’re one of the best. You deserve to be here just as much as everyone else. You’ve practiced the same amount. Played the same pieces. You’re  _ here, _ ” Shuichi pointed to Hajime’s name on the tournament sheet. “For a reason, okay?”

“Okay.” Hajime nodded, his nerves settling a bit. The competition began and the first ten musicians played. A break was called for the judges to eat. Hajime and Shuichi ate at the hotel restaurant for fear of going too far from the competition. When it was time to return, they did so quickly. Hajime was second after the break. He watched the first musician play with bated breath and then waited for his name to be called and walked up slowly. Shuichi gave him an encouraging look that didn’t help the shaking in his legs. He locked his knees when he reached the stage and bowed. He heard Devil’s Trill announced and he watched the three judges in the front row carefully. One of them nodded. 

Hajime took a breath.

He lifted his violin to his neck. 

He imagined the chaos of the piece and the feeling in it and he waited until he felt the surge of emotion in his heart that matched the piece, the music floating in the space behind his eyes. Hajime began to play. Twelve eight timing in the key of G minor. It was difficult but doable and Hajime knew he’d practiced it as much as was physically possible. He’d poured his heart and soul into that piece. As the piece began to shift higher in octave, the emotions grew stronger. Hajime could feel every note, pulling at his heart and climbing its way through his soul, making a permanent mark.  _ This is what you were born to do.  _

The realization was a shock. The nerves disappeared. He leaned into the music, suddenly feeling as though his bow was a spoon in a jar of honey. Easy. Mundane.Tranquil. It was like the strings that had always held Hajime back, disconnecting the music he played from the emotions he felt, had been cut. The music was free and even more so, it was  _ freeing.  _ The rest of the piece went by without stress or nerves, just a rush of adrenaline that shot through his body. He was in another realm of music and the competition hadn’t followed him there, only his own musicianship. 

When Hajime finished and bowed, he felt the applause more than heard it. He smiled and walked off stage, joining Shuichi. “That’s the best you’ve ever played.” Shuichi whispered to him, pride clear in his voice. Hajime mumbled a thanks back and sat back in his seat to watch the rest of the performances. Now that his was over and the nerves were gone, he realized how amazing just being in the room was. Being in the top orchestra in his area, Hajime wasn’t exposed to other violinists with new styles as much as he’d like to be. He knew every violinist who did concerts in his area, often since he was a kid. But now things were at higher stakes. He’d never watched many of these players perform in person and seeing their techniques and their song choices was indescribably exciting to him. By the time the final violinist played their piece, Hajime was pretty sure there were stars in his eyes. 

The crowd filtered out and onto other competitions if they had them, or snuck into rooms to watch other performers. Hajime and Shuichi had started towards a room of viola players in competition, but Hajime’s phone began ringing, so he picked it up. “Uh, hey?” He answered, silently adding up how much the phone charge would be for the international call. He remembered Nagito telling him once how one is supposed to put their phone on airplane mode when they travel for short times and just turn on internet, but he’d so preoccupied that he hadn’t. Even besides that, the idea of being unreachable was an uncomfortable one to him. Maybe because there were still certain people he was hoping would contact him. 

“Hajime? Are you somewhere private?”

“Um,” Hajime recognized Kokichi’s voice instantly, resisting the urge to sigh in disappointment. He stepped into an empty room, where a competition had recently finished. “Now I am, why?”

“SEX HOTLINE ONLY THIRTY DOLLARS AN HOUR, CALL TO YOUR HEART’S CONTENT-”

“Jesus Christ, Kokichi what are you doing?” Hajime winced into the phone, ears ringing. 

“Making sure you were being honest.” He said simply, like it was obvious. Hajime held back a scoff and waited for him to continue. “Hey, um, I actually, like totally changed my mind about calling you and I’m gonna hang up-”

“Wait! Kokichi! What were you going to say?”

“Wellll…. Now that I’ve thought about, I’ve realized altruism just isn’t for me. So I’m really gonna go-”

“ _ Kokichi! _ ”

“Okay fine. Sorry. I…” Kokichi sighed on the other end. “I can’t go into details with you. But, um, don’t… don’t do something dumb ‘cause you’ve got a boner over Nagito, kay?”

“What?” Hajime asked blankly. He had been distracted by Kokichi’s choice of phrasing that he missed the sentiment completely. 

“You miss him, don’t you?” Kokichi’s words were greeted with silence. Hajime wasn’t sure how Kokichi would know or what would prompt him to call. Hajime frowned. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, swallowing and trying to calm himself before he answered. 

“I do. I think anyone would.” Hajime stared at the stage area of the empty room, mouth falling into a small frown. “Can you tell me how he is?”

“Hmm. No can do, Mister. See, there’s a thing called patient confidentiality that can cost me my medical license. Also, assuming he’s a patient of mine is kind of a jump. Only a crazy person would fly to Switzerland for no reason.” Kokichi yawned. “He’s not my patient.”

“Kokichi.”

“Oh no.” Kokichi didn’t sound distressed in the slightest. “My patient is flatlining because I got so distracted with that crossex you just threw at me, sooo I should probably go so I can inform the family. Ciao.” Kokichi hung up. Hajime pulled the phone away from his face and stared at it for a few seconds. What Kokichi had been trying to tell him started to piece together in his mind. He dialled Kokichi back. “What? I’m very busy right now.”

“I can  _ hear _ a TV playing, Kokichi.”

“Yes. Very busy.”

“I think I get what you were trying to tell me. I just wanna know how you know?”

“Takes a liar to know one, huh?” Kokichi giggled. “Now really, bye.” He hung up. Unbeknownst to Hajime, on the other side of the world, Kokichi has overheard a particular conversation between Nagito and Chiaki in his clinic lobby. Kokichi wasn’t capable of honesty even when it was about being dishonest. 

Hajime had thought for years that the moment anyone discovered his secret, that the world would crumble around him. But it didn’t. Kokichi knew better than to say anything about it, considering Hajime’s dad was his employer, and despite the toll it had taken on him and Nagito’s relationship, the other man had proven that he wouldn’t sell out Hajime. He remembered thinking that Nagito seemed lighter after letting the secret about his parents out to Hajime and Hajime understood the feeling. It was incredibly freeing to have one’s biggest insecurity lifted from their shoulders. But he understood what Kokichi was trying to convey. He didn’t need to expose it for it to be gone. Hajime had always tried to be somewhat honest, mostly just because he wasn’t a very talented liar, but the weight of his indiscretion had pulled on that since the moment he’d decided to cheat. However, he was realizing that even if he never  completely left the shadows, that he could make his own light in them. 

His phone rang again and he sighed, wondering what other new bombshell Kokichi would drop before hanging up this time. He answered. “I thought you were busy?” 

“What?” Shuichi sounded confused. 

“O-oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Where are you? The placements were just posted.”

“Oh shit, really? Okay, uh, I’ll be there soon.” Hajime hung up and started walking briskly back to the hall where he’d seen some scores posted, before. Eventually, everyone would get a score sheet back, but as of that day, only the top ten to fifteen spots would receive their placement. Hajime found Shuichi in the main corridor, standing a bit aways from the sheets posted on the walls. “Why’re you all the way back here?” Hajime raised an eyebrow. 

“If I saw how you did I wouldn’t have been able to hide it over the phone.” He laughed a little. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Hajime nodded quickly.  _ I don’t care if I win or lose, in all honesty. Even if my name isn’t on that paper, I’m happy with how this all went.  _ He usually thought something along those lines at the end of a competition, but this was one of the few times where it was completely genuine. He walked up to the paper after making his way through the crowd of other musicians. Normally, he read from bottom to top. It was a good luck thing.  _ But I really don’t care. So, I’m just gonna see who placed first. So I can try to remember how they played.  _ The first name on the list was a French violinist who he’d heard people talk about in the forums. Second was a young woman who’d played a piece in a strange key, who he remembered simply because of that. Third was a man with excellent technique. He read down the list, recognizing number nine from a conference he’d attended once.  _ Okay, cool, then number ten Hajime Hinata. Number eleven- Wait.  _ Hajime’s posture changed before his mind could even register what he’d just read. He went completely stiff staring at the sheet of paper.  _ Number ten. Hajime Hinata.  _ He swallowed. “A-ah.” He mumbled, turning around sharply and walking back over to Shuichi. 

“Who came in first?” Shuichi asked, trying to peek over the crowd. 

“The guy who played the Vivaldi piece.”

“Yeah. He was good. Anyone you recognize on there?” Shuichi asked casually. Hajime felt a goofy looking grin on his face. 

“Ten.”

“What?”

“I got tenth.”

“No.” Shuichi’s eyes went wide. He checked Hajime’s face for a sign he was lying. “ _ You got tenth place?! _ ” He almost shrieked, suddenly lowering his voice and apologizing to the woman he’d startled that they were standing next to. “You… You seriously got tenth place?”

“Hajime Hinata. Number ten.” Hajime laughed, feeling giddy. Tenth place was major. Since the competition was world’s, it essentially meant that-

“You’re one of the top ten violinists in the world.” Shuichi blinked, a smile starting on his face, too. Hajime nodded excitedly. Adrenaline and happiness were coursing through his body. 

“I am.” He felt tears in his eyes, but he blinked them away “Holy shit I am.” He felt like he could run a marathon or run for president or  _ something _ , like he was suddenly more than human. “Oh my God, I’m so happy.”

 

* * *

 

 

After a long night of celebrating, Hajime crashed in his room. The excited feeling of the night before still hadn’t worn off by the time he was getting dressed for the original composition section. He’d be playing his own piece, which wasn’t a common choice, but still fairly normal. Most people had a pianist or mallet player learn it for them to perform, but considering Hajime was in a state of being sans an accompanist, he decided he was his own best shot. Either way, he’d written the piece mostly for violin anyway, as it was the instrument he knew best. With the previous win already under his belt, he didn’t feel nervous at all.  _ If I lose, who gives a shit? I’m the tenth best violinist in the world.  _ His nerves were gone completely and he decided to just use the experience to listen to the other composers and take mental notes on what he could incorporate into his own pieces in the future. 

When it was his turn, he walked onto the stage, introduced his piece and played it through without a mistake. The confidence from his earlier competition gave him the freedom to not care what everyone in the audience thought.  _ I made this. I’m proud of it.  _ He decided in his head as he played.  _ Even if everyone else in the world thinks it sucks, oh well.  _

And maybe they did. Because he didn’t place in the top fifteen. “That’s really normal, though.” Shuichi shrugged over their airport lunch. “It was your first time composing and you went right up against the best in the world.”

“Yeah. True. I’ll do better next time.” Hajime had felt a slight twinge of disappointment at not even placing, but it made way for a hope that he would improve his abilities now that he’d discovered his love for composing. “It’s might’ve been too busy, between the nine eight and the three key changes.” He realized how obvious that sounded as he said it after the fact. Shuichi laughed. 

“Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, though, right?” He checked his phone. “We should get going soon, we have to be on our flight in twenty minutes and they might start boarding early because it’s international.” 

“Got it.” Hajime mumbled over a mouthful of food, trying to eat quickly. Fortunately, they made it to their terminal on time and boarded the plane home. Hajime was in such a good mood that even the screeching child next to him didn’t bother him too much.  _ Well, maybe a little bit. I’m human.  _ He decided in his head. They landed and started the trek through customs, which thankfully didn’t take long as it could have. Just as they were about to walk through the one way door to the rest of the airport, Hajime froze. Somewhere, he’d heard a voice that sounded all too familiar. He turned around and looked back over to the long line of people waiting in customs. Somewhere, in the back of the line, he thought he saw a tuft of messy white hair bob above the crowd. Hajime’s eyes went wide and his throat went dry. He took a step back towards the line, but Shuichi stopped him. 

“Hajime? What are you doing?” He asked, frowning. Hajime looked back over his shoulder and the white hair was gone. He blinked, rubbing his eyes and apologizing. 

“Sorry, thought I saw something. Um, let’s go home.”

“Yeah.” Shuichi seemed confused, but he didn’t push the subject. 

 

* * *

 

 

Nagito’s flight from Switzerland had just landed. He’d hit at just the right time for there to be a long line filing their way up to the rest of the airport. He was keeping a close eye on his bandaged hand, trying to avoid bumping it into anyone or anything. Up ahead, he could see a flight from South Korea was just getting in through customs.  _ I wonder if Hajime ended up competing without me. I hope so. I’m sure he’d do well at it.  _ Nagito glanced at his hand, trying his best to avoid acknowledging in his mind that he’d never compete again.  _ I already made that decision, it doesn’t matter.  _ He told himself. The line moved up slightly. 

The family in front of him in line had been a few seats ahead of him on the flight, too. They were speaking in French, the language he’d taken in college, but it had been a few years so he couldn’t understand most of it. He glanced ahead of them to the front of the room, watching two men start out of the line. The silhouettes looked familiar. He squinted, trying to see past the crowd. The child with the family in front of him dropped his toy on the ground. He started crying. “Excusez-moi?” He could at least remember that much French. Nagito blinked down at the toy and then back up at the parents. They didn’t hear him. The man at the front of the line turned around at Nagito’s voice, but Nagito was too busy bending down to pick up the toy to notice. He handed it to the mother of the family, who was closest. “Vous avez, er…” He tried to think of the word for “dropped” but it didn’t come to mind. She seemed to understand anyway and took the toy from him with a smile and a  _ merci. _ He looked back up to the front of the room but the two men were gone.  _ Hm.  _ He frowned.  _ I suppose it was nothing.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry there still hasn't been a reunion aHH!! I am working on it, I promise! Hopefully the chapter was alright and seriously, thanks so much for reading <3 <3 <3


	10. La Rêverie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just a warning, this is a really long chapter. I told myself that if it got to 30 pages, I would cut it in half, but I just missed the limit, so here it is, haha. Also, this is a HUGE thank you to every single amazing person who commented, sent me messages, or even just left kudos. It means so much to me, seriously. I met a lot of amazing people through my last fic, and I feel like I'm meeting even more through this one! So here we are at the big finale, hope you guys enjoy <3

**Two Months Later**

 

Shuichi had approached Hajime after World’s to ask him about playing a solo for the upcoming orchestra performance. He’d agreed readily. Of course, Hajime had been even more excited about composing, but he’d decided he wanted to wait until he had a composition that was absolutely  _ perfect _ before he had the orchestra play it.  _ They deserve that. _

Either way, he needed to have a piece to play. So, he found himself sitting in a coffee shop with Gundham, Sonia, and Souda stewing over different compositions he’d been thinking of. He wanted something that would include the rest of the orchestra in some way. Partially because it would sound nice, but also just because as much as he loved solo work, working with the rest of the orchestra was growing on. He could remember a time when he’d been dead set on only playing solo by choice,  _ of course  _ he _ changed that- _ Hajime cut his thoughts off, turning back to the music sitting open on his computer. “Allow us to see them.” Gundham sighed, slipping a few crumbs of his scone into his bag. 

“Did you… Did you bring your hamsters in here?” Hajime frowned at the bag. Sonia nervously glanced to the no pets sign on the door. 

“Of course not!” She laughed, voice breaking slightly. Hajime burst into laughter. He leaned sideways in his chair, trying to see into the bag. Souda came back from the counter with his coffee, interrupting Hajime’s vision. 

“Dude! Tchaikovsky, hell yeah!” Souda looked over his shoulder. Sonia turned Hajime’s computer around’ eyes wide. 

“Please pick this one! The flute part is  _ soo _ pretty and it’ll finally be a piece someone can hear me on.” She clapped her hands together excitedly. Gundham nodded his agreement. 

“You’re sure? I mean, it’s kinda basic and-”

“It’s a good choice.” Gundham shook his head. “They agree.” He pointed to his bag, where the tiny snout of a hamster was poking out curiously. Hajime smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He downloaded the sheet music and opened his e-mail to tell Shuichi. 

 

* * *

 

 

That evening, Hajime was half-watching true crime documentaries while he reheated his fried rice on the stove. A story about the infamous Genocider Jack was just finishing up, followed closely by an add for a romance novel hitting shelves soon from the popular author Toko Fukawa. Hajime sat down with his food and opened his laptop, flipping through to find the right parts he’d need for their orchestra. Shuichi had offered to do the organization, but Hajime felt it was the least he could do as the soloist.  _ Besides, I still kinda owe him for coming with me to Korea, so this’ll even things out.  _ The intro music on the TV blared and he reached for the remote to turn the volume down. 

“ _ This week _ \- the insane ‘Piano Killer’ who used her pupil and  _ killed _ his parents in cold blood.” The program rambled and Hajime’s eyes shot to the television.  _ No way.  _ He almost gasped. He watched intently as the show began. “In this peaceful, rural town, mystery was brewing. Famed piano instructor and former world champion, Junko Enoshima was driving to the house of her favorite pupil, an unnamed pianist.” Hajime thanked God that Nagito had been a minor and didn’t have to live with his name being attached to the case forever. “She’d had a plan all along. Utilizing the trust of her young student, Junko became a close friend of the family and according to documents leaked by the family’s attorney, there was even discussion of including her  _ in their will _ .” A beat of intense music played. Hajime put his bowl down, consumed by the screen.  _ Nagito never said that she had been that close to the family. But it makes sense. It gives her a motive. If she would’ve been included in the will, then Junko could’ve had everything.  _ Hajime thought back to how nice Nagito’s house had been and him mentioning the wealth he’d inherited when his parents had died. 

The show cut to a shot of a high school after hours. “This is where our story starts.” The narrator’s voice was dramatic to the point of being gauche. “Junko, being an internationally ranked musician, trained many talented pianists, but one of them stood out.” Hajime felt a nervous feeling crawling just under his skin. “In interviews following the murders, Junko claims this pupil was exceptionally talented, but more than that, he was,” words flashed on the screen in time to his voice. “Alone and vulnerable.” The quotation marks alluded those had been her exact words.  _ Oh my God.  _ “Junko devised a plan.” Her mugshot flashed on the screen and Hajime’s blood ran cold. 

_ Oh my fucking God. It’s her. It’s the girl from the grocery store.  _ His eyes darted to the door and windows, like she might appear there if he wasn’t careful. He shivered.  _ I’m mistaken. I’ve got to be. Junko’s obviously in prison or, or… somewhere. They don’t let criminals go like that.  _ He pulled his knees to his chest and continued watching. “While Junko has always claimed to have never had a motive, many theorists speculate that she was planning to kill the parents and frame their son, her pupil, and receive the family’s money as he would become ineligible to claim it. She waited until she knew he would be out of the house and brutally stabbed both adults.” It cut to crime scene photos. They were heavily blurred, but something about the mess of red pixels was almost worse than seeing the bodies themselves. Hajime’s breath caught in his throat. It was the living room of Nagito’s house, where they’d stayed together. The living room that he’d asked Nagito about. He’d  _ sat _ on the couch just at the edge of the photo. The image of a teenage Nagito coming home to find something so utterly disturbing was burning itself like a hot ironed brand into Hajime’s brain.  _ I’m gonna be sick,  _ he thought to himself with wide eyes.  _ Those aren’t even my parents. I’ve never met them before and I’m reacting this… this viscerally. I can’t even imagine what Nagito went through seeing this, I…  _ Hajime’s nails dug into his wrist.  _ No wonder he seems so damaged. Holy fuck.  _ “Now, this is where the case first starts getting weird,

“Junko waited at the house until school got out, but her student didn’t come home until almost six pm. Surveillance footage and his testimony agree that he’d been practicing piano after school in a school practice room. He was very dedicated to music.”  _ Fuck yeah he was, what do you think? _ Hajime’s brain was working on gears, a new emotion starting to take over the shock. “When he found his parents, he  _ didn’t _ call police for almost forty five minutes. Instead, he attempted suicide at the scene of the crime. This led to speculation on his part for some time from police, but psychologists ruled it was just a reaction based on shock and grief. Still, there is the theory that he was in on the plot with Junko, especially considering he inherited a great deal of money from his parents’ deaths.”  _ Are they being serious!?  _ Hajime knew for certain the emotion starting in him was rage. “But no evidence points towards him other than his reaction and his closeness with Junko. After police arrived on scene, the young man was able to tell them he had seen Junko’s car at his house and gave a physical description of her. She was found at a salon a few hours later and arrested. With the young man alive, her original plan had fallen through and she had little to no defense. Junko pleaded insanity and while controversial, she was still ruled not fit for prison and instead institutionalized for what was supposed to be ten years. However, after only  _ five _ years, Junko was ruled competent by her psychiatrists and released.”

“Five… years?” Hajime blinked in fear at the screen.  _ It had already been five years when Nagito and I met, it’s closer to six, now. She’s… free? There’s no way they’d do that, though, right? She’s a fucking murdered and they just let her go after that little of time? Nagito said she was a good manipulator, but… how much skill does someone need at controlling others to get away with that? _ Hajime had tuned out of the show and when he looked back up, they were discussing different theories about the crime. A hotline number was posted at the bottom. Hajime’s hand reached for his cellphone. The cold feeling he’d felt earlier had long since been replaced by pure fire in his veins. He dialled the number and every second he listened to the generic elevator music on the other side, his fury grew. By the time he was connected, Hajime was irate. 

“Hello? You’re on air. What are your opinions on the case? Any theori-”

“Yeah, I think you should shut the fuck up.” He spat. He heard his words bleeped out on the TV in front of him. “Do you even fucking care that this affected people besides your little show? Did you ever think about that? There’s a victim who’s still alive, who could- could see you parade the photos of his parents on TV like it’s a joke and sit here and listen to you make up these… ‘ _ theories’ _ on what happened like there’s  _ any _ truth in them. Just fuck off and find something real to do with your life.” Hajime growled into the phone and shut it off quickly. He turned off the TV, too angry to continue watching. 

 

* * *

 

 

An hour or so away, Nagito was studying in a campus lounge. The TV was on on the other side of the room, a few of his fellow students and friends watching it. He knew them from his classes, but friends weren’t his main focus at the moment. Nagito had his first quiz since returning the next day and he wanted to get as much studying in as possible.  _ It’s amusing that now that I don’t care about friends, I can make them. But when I desperately wanted someone to care, I was alone.  _ He heard the name of his hometown on TV and glanced up to the screen. “Ah.” He let out a short breath. There had been multiple specials focused on his parents’ death after it had happened. He was used to it. It was still a strange and often painful reminder to see the most secret and corrupted part of his life flash on the screen with the rest of the news. 

“Hey, Nagito said he’s from there, didn’t he?” One student asked another. “Hey, Nagito you’re from there, right?” They called back to him. He put his highlighter down and stared at the TV. 

“Mhmm.” He nodded. The screen turned into a question and theories session. He frowned and turned back to his books, not particularly wanting to listen, if possible. A few minutes passed and he heard one of his friends, Ibuki, whistle. Ibuki was a music major who had been enthralled with Nagito’s former profession until she discovered he had no interest in joining her rock band, but the two had at least stayed friends. 

“Damn, this guy’s going ham.” She laughed. Nagito looked back up to the screen.  _ Who’s ‘this guy?’ I was the only surviving man in the case.  _

“-shut the fuck up.” A caller on the show’s voice was dripping with anger. Nagito froze, his entire body held captive in a state of pure surprise.  _ Hajime…? _ “Do you even fucking care that this affected people besides your little show?” He’d never heard Hajime that angry, before. Even when him and Hajime had fought, there hadn’t been the note of hatred he heard in his voice now. “Did you ever think about that? There’s a victim who’s still alive, who could- could see you parade the photos of his parents on TV like it’s a joke and sit here and listen to you make up these… ‘ _ theories’ _ on what happened like there’s  _ any _ truth in them. Just fuck off and find something real to do with your life.” Hajime hung up the phone and the TV host stared it for a few moments with a shocked expression. 

“U-um, alright. Continuing on.” He picked up another call, but Nagito’s attention wasn’t focused on him, anymore. He was throwing his papers into the prospective folders and closing his books, shoving them into his bag. His friends were still laughing about Hajime’s outburst on television, ignoring the show. 

“You done studying?” One of them asked. Nagito nodded quickly, waved a goodbye, and walked briskly out the doors and into the cold, winter air. He walked straight home to his apartment and sat on the couch. Nagito suddenly regretted renting out his home near the orchestra,  _ and near Hajime.  _ Now, he seemed so far away. It hadn’t mattered before, if anything it had been a saving grace, but…

Nagito missed Hajime. A lot. 

After his conversation with Chiaki, he’d considered trying to contact Hajime again, but… things didn’t work out. He’d get nervous or some cosmic form of his bad luck would ruin it somehow. He was still in contact with Chiaki, albeit loosely, and when she’d ask about Hajime, he’d mumble a response and change the subject. Until ten minutes ago, Nagito had been positive the pain had been one sided. He’d been so sure that every second he spent toiling over his memories of Hajime was just some ill-spent time where Hajime was probably thinking about violin or something equally important. He’d never considered the possibility that he was on Hajime’s mind, too. 

He pulled his laptop out of his bag and opened his e-mail, clicking on one from a few days. He’d forgotten to remove himself from the e-mail list of the orchestra, so he still received e-mail updates about every one of their concerts and one had come in just a few days ago. When Nagito had seen Hajime’s name bolded in the subject line, his breath had been stolen for a moment. He scrolled through the e-mail, barely registering the words telling him that Hajime would be starring as the soloist, until he reached the end of it. His hand hovered over the mouse. The cursor was resting dangerously on a link that read “buy tickets here.” He clicked, the sound reverberating in the room. A ticket buying site opened, showing only a handful of seats left available. Nagito chose one in the far back corner, farthest away from the stage. He didn’t want Hajime to see him, necessarily.  _ I just… In Hajime’s absence, I’ve realized how much of my soul was his. How comforted I feel just by seeing him. We don’t need to reconcile things, but I want to at least see him play. He used to get so excited over solos, it will be fun to see him excited, again.  _ They’d been promised a duet when they’d won nationals, but  _ I ruined that, didn’t I? _ Nagito pursed his lips. 

 

* * *

 

Two weeks passed, each day becoming a gnawing anxiety and growing excitement for Nagito. He’d never realized how similar the two emotions could feel. When the day of the concert arrived, Nagito dressed in one of his suits, careful to choose a nondescript color. He didn’t want to attract attention to himself while he was there and be noticed by one of his former peers.  _ Then Hajime will realize I’m coming and watching him like some sort of codependent insect and- _ Nagito let out a sharp breath. He looked in the mirror, ran a hand through his hair and promptly gave up on it before grabbing his coat and walking out the door. He hired a taxi to take him back to where he used to live and where the concert would be. Considering the length of the drive, it was an expensive ride, but Nagito was more than willing to pay. He’d thought about asking Rantaro for driving help or even just going out and purchasing a new car to get the ball rolling, but the idea was too scary to him.  _ With my luck, everything will just repeat all over again.  _

The drive was long and silent, so Nagito stared out the window, watching the city lights dip in and out of focus between the pieces of falling snow. He bit down to stop his teeth from chattering in the cold air and closed his eyes. His therapist had once told him that before any stress-inducing situation, he should imagine the best and worst case scenarios. He was trying, but the image of the worst-case scenario was slightly too unsavory for him to stomach. By the time, they arrived, Nagito could feel nervous tension settling in his bones. He paid the cab driver and stepped out of the taxi. 

For a moment, Nagito simply stood in front of the orchestra hall and stared up at it with sad eyes. For years, it had been the one thing he was working for. Then, it had been a second home. He could practically feel beneath his feet every time he’d walked in, coffees for himself and Hajime in hand. Every time he’d rushed in with sheet music before a concert. The hours he’d spent practicing for competition. He took a breath, letting the cold air flooding his lungs bring him back to reality. Nagito took the first step towards the building, to show his feet it was possible, and they continued on their own. Nagito found his seat inside, careful to blend in with the crowd. He almost bumped into a frantic Souda, who was muttering something about timpani mallets, but he managed to dodge him and sit down in his purposely secluded place. He rested his cheek on his hand, watching the stage. The curtain was drawn and he knew he had no hope of seeing any of his former fellow musicians behind it. Someone sat down next to him with a program in hand. “Excuse me?” Nagito asked, voice polite. They turned around. “Could I see that for just a moment?” He was handed the program and he opened it with bated breath.

_ Violin Concerto by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, performed by Hajime Hinata and the Hope’s Peak Orchestra.  _ “Ah.” Nagito mumbled.  _ A piano-less piece. I can’t tell if that is more or less disappointing.  _ He handed the program back with a quick thanks and settled back in his seat. He waited impatiently for the curtains to open and the lights to dim, and when they did that nervous-excited feeling almost consumed him. He could feel it pounding in his head and his heart like a bass drum, swallowing every other emotion in its wake. Nagito knew as well as any musician that no matter how long a musician has been retired, the moment they step into a concert hall, they feel a certain residual excitement built on muscle memory and nostalgia. He could feel it mix with the idea of seeing Hajime and turn into an undeniable fluttering of his heart. But perhaps even stronger were the more negative thoughts swirling in him.  _ You shouldn’t have made the choice you did. Leaving Hajime. Letting your arm be useless again. Moving away. You don’t want them to see you sitting here because you know how angry everyone will be if they do. You let them all down so many times.  _ It truly was a dualistic recipe his brain had decided to make. He gripped the arm of his chair.  _ I should go.  _ He almost stood up to leave, but applause flooded the room and his natural instinct caused him to start clapping along. 

The curtain rose to reveal the rest of the orchestra.  _ Thump, thump, thump _ his heart was beating too fast. Nagito’s eyes darted around. Sonia near the front with her flute, Gundham behind her with his cello, and Souda in the far back, sticks in the ready position. Shuichi was standing on his director’s stand. He glanced off stage and nodded. Hajime emerged from the right side, violin in hand. Nagito’s heart stopped. The nerves disappeared, pushing the breath out of him like a beautiful hit to the gut. Hajime smiled, confidence and ease showing in his every movement.  _ He’s beautiful.  _

Shuichi counted off and the piece began with the intro from the strings section. Hajime lifted his violin to his neck and played the first few, sweet notes of the song. They were sad, pulling at the air around them and consuming Nagito with the emotion he knew they were supposed to invoke. He was vaguely aware of Gundham’s pace suddenly quickening as the background instruments picked up, trailed by Hajime’s violin bouncing into a happier tone. It was exploratory and interested, and so was the audience, kept on edge by the music.  _ He’s improved.  _ Nagito blinked in surprise, watching Hajime’s hand push the bow with the grace of a swan swimming through water. Emotion was pouring out from each movement of his fingers like a well, feeding the audience with a beautiful melody. Every other thought cleared from his head as he watched Hajime play, replaced entirely with music. It was rare for him to feel that way without playing the music himself.  _ Actually, I’ve never… I’ve never loved music I’m not playing this much, before.  _ Nagito’s hands twitched in his lap.  _ I never thought I’d be able to feel this way, again.  _ On stage, the other instruments had dropped out and Hajime was playing completely on his own. The sound of his violin spread easily across the room, beautifully, as if there were hundreds of Hajimes playing and forming an orchestra together. The other instruments came back, but it already felt as though one of the holes in Nagito’s heart had been stitched shut. 

By the end of the thirty five minute piece, Hajime had earned a standing ovation from the crowd. He smiled proudly, bowed, and watched Shuichi introduce him and the orchestra. Shuichi began talking about upcoming performances and the history of the piece.  _ Now’s my chance to leave without them noticing.  _ Nagito thought to himself, doing his best to politely slip past the other people in his row. He pushed through the doors and when he was outside, breathed a sigh of relief.  _ I did it.  _ He was proud. Nagito’s eyes darted to the hall he knew led to the practice rooms. None of the musicians woulds be going that way and there was an exit at the end of the hall. He started walking down the hall, but when he passed his old practice room, he paused for just a moment.  _ It couldn’t hurt to just glance inside.  _ He thought, knowing full well he was wrong. He approached the door and stared in the window at the piano and the chair next to it. Nagito could almost hear the concerto him and Hajime had played coming from inside. His hand reached out to the door knob and hovered just over it. He swallowed and turned the knob. 

“Nagito?” There was a soft voice behind him. Nagito froze. He turned around slowly, eyes wide. Hajime was out of breath, eyes intense. 

“Hajime.” He mumbled and something inside of Hajime broke. He wanted to lunge out and hug Nagito, drive him home and live with him forever. Pretend they’d never been away from each other. He wanted to protect Nagito from any more of the horrors of the world, but all he could get out of his mouth was-

“Where- Where were you?” His voice cracked, echoing terribly in the hall and the space between them. Nagito flinched. 

“I had to make my own path, Hajime.” He swallowed nervously. Hajime could feel his knees lock. 

“I-I know, I just…  _ I missed you _ .” He felt his eyes burn and he prayed desperately that he wouldn’t cry. “I was  _ really _ worried about you, and-and you never called back. No one knew where you were. And I know you’re an adult, but I… I don’t even know. I just…” Hajime could feel a headache forming. “Why come back now?”

Nagito hesitated. “I don’t know.” He mumbled, hand slowly pulling away from the door. 

“Are you still mad at me?” Hajime asked, but he was greeted by silence. He winced and tried again. “Do you want to, um, come over-”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“Coffee? Can I take you out for coffee, at least?”

“At ten pm?” Nagito raised an eyebrow. Hajime shrugged desperately. Nagito nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“O-okay. Um, let’s go.” Hajime closed the gap between them and walked with Nagito to the exit. He was still out of breath. “Sorry, I had to run here from backstage, y’know? I, er… I saw you leave and I was sure it was you so I, er, well I ran here.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“O-oh.” Nagito made a small noise, sounding surprised. They were completely silent as they walked to Hajime’s car and got in. He drove to the diner where they’d first met outside of music. There was still no conversation by the time they’d ordered their coffees. Nagito pressed his nails to the inside of his wrist and choked out a tiny breath before he made the leap to starting their conversation. “You’ve improved a lot.” He looked away. “I mean, you’ve always been a talented musician, but your performance tonight was terrific.” He mustered the courage to look at Hajime’s face. 

“You think so?” His eyes lit up. “Oh man, you weren’t even here for World’s. You should’ve seen it, it was crazy!”

“You competed in Korea?”

“Yeah,” Hajime nodded vigorously. “In two solo categories. I won tenth in solo violin.” He drank some of his coffee. He watched Nagito’s eyes go wide and a strange pride flooded him. 

“Wow. You’re amazing, Hajime.” He didn’t seem as warm as he had before, but the words felt good coming from Nagito’s mouth.  _ I wonder how he makes such weird words sound genuine and natural. I can’t imagine ever telling someone they’re amazing with such a deadpan face.  _ “Have you found a new accompanist to replace me yet?” Nagito’s words took Hajime by surprise. 

“No! I mean, er, no.” He shrugged too casually.  _ I’d been hoping you’d come back. But it’s not like I can say that.  _ Hajime frowned. “You know, if you ever wanted to, you’d be welcomed back with open arms. We all miss you, Nagito.”

“Ahaha-” Nagito laughed, a forced sound like a dog barking.  _ What’s so funny to him all the time?  _ Slight frustration flared in Hajime. “I can’t, Hajime.”

“No, really! Like, everyone would be happy if you came back and we could do some duo stuff and-”

Nagito held up his bad hand, fresh scars snaking their ways up the back of it. “I  _ can’t _ , Hajime. I made the choice to never play piano, again. It’s not one I can take back.”  _ Oh my God.  _ Hajime’s mind was reeling.  _ What is he talking about? What did he do? _ Nagito stared at the arm with disdain. “I fractured a metacarpal. When Kokichi looked at it, he realized there was an issue with the placement of the steel. I had to make a decision and I did.” He sounded bitter and Hajime made a mental note of it. “So, as much as I hate to disappoint, you might be doing well in finding a new pianist.” He laughed again, shorter this time but somehow even more forced. There was a short stint of silence between the two of them. Hajime wasn’t sure where to even begin with what he wanted to say, and in his hesitation, Nagito found an opening to avoid the conversation. “Thank you for the talk show.” Nagito thought back to Hajime’s words on the true crime show. 

“You heard that?” Hajime flushed. “It wasn’t a big deal. I just got kinda pissed. They shouldn’t be able to tell you story like that and-”

“I don’t blame you, Hajime. For what you did.” Nagito wasn’t talking about the TV show and they both knew it when they connected eyes. Hajime leaned away from him, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. “I spoke with Chiaki. She helped me see a different side of things. I apologize for the way I reacted.”

“It’s… It’s okay.” Hajime blinked in surprise. Nagito put a few dollars down on the table and started to shuffle out of the booth. “Where are you going?” Hajime hated how urgent his voice sounded. How scared he was to lose Nagito for a second time. 

“Well, I have class tomorrow. And I live over an hour away.”

“Class?” 

“Oh!” Nagito clapped his hands together lightly. He’d forgotten Hajime hadn’t been privy to that new part of his life. “I’ve enrolled in university, again. Rantaro and I attended an alumni event and I realized how much I missed academic life. I only have two years of classes in psych before I can get my degree and start working towards my PhD, and-” Nagito cut himself off. He was used to cutting himself off when he got too excited about something. But he looked up to find Hajime watching him with interested eyes, nodding along like he was genuinely curious about Nagito’s academic career. For a moment, the foreign idea that Hajime might actually care about that broke through Nagito’s personal barrier and he blinked in surprise at the thought. “I really should get going though, Hajime. The last bus leaves fairly soon and I-”

“You took the bus?” Hajime raised an eyebrow. “Just let me drive you home.”

“It’s an hour.”

“That’s fine.”

“Surely you have more important things to worry about.”

“No. No, I really don’t.” Hajime shook his head.  _ How am I supposed to tell a man that there’s literally nothing more important to me in the world right now than trying to get him back in my life? How am I supposed to put that into words? Especially to Nagito Komaeda, of all people, who can’t take emotion to save his life.  _ Hajime grabbed his keys from his pocket and gestured towards the door. Nagito frowned, but acquiesced and they both got into his car, outside. “So, um, is this a new place or…?” He trailed off, starting the car. It was much easier to talk to Nagito when they were driving. The pleasantry of eye contact was all but abandoned and it gave Hajime something to do instead of focus with a neverending concentration on trying to formulate a sentence in front of Nagito. 

“Mhmm. I rent out my house near here to cover the rent. Three homes is even a little much for me.” He stared out the window. “It’s also nice to have a house to come back to when I need some space from my friends-”

“‘Friends?’” Hajime echoed, eyebrows shooting up. If Nagito was anyone else, he might have felt offended at Hajime’s surprise, but instead he just nodded. 

“Yes. They’ve very nice. Take a left here.” He pointed in the right direction and Hajime merged over. “So are you planning on competing more?” He was drumming his fingers on his knee, his bad hand doing little more than slightly lifting every once and awhile. 

“Yes! Definitely! I feel like I’ve really gotten in tune with myself and music and everything. I dunno. I’m just excited to compete, I guess. And now that I’m in the top ten, I have to work to keep that -and I intend to, so yeah.” Hajime nodded with his words as he drove. “So, er, how was Kokichi?”

“Hm.” Nagito made a slight face. “He was… enigmatic as ever, I suppose.” was the response he settled on. 

“He called me. While I was at World’s. He told me not to do anything stupid.” Hajime spoke haltingly, still trying to decide with each word if he really wanted to say what he was saying. If he wanted to start the conversation down  _ that _ path. 

“Why was he worried you’d do something stupid? I assure you that Kokichi had no knowledge of you competing-”

“I know, don’t worry. I trust you. He was…” Hajime took a short breath. “He figured out my secret somehow. He was worried I’d try to own up to it to get you back or something, I think.” Hajime had wanted to avoid bringing up the cheating, if possible, but it was something he thought Nagito should know. Nagito laughed the same sort of laugh he’d done when Hajime had asked him to play with him again. 

“He’d never struck me as foolish, but… it would be rather unlikely that you would expose yourself like that just to win my attention. There are much more valuable prizes in the world.” Nagito sounded slightly amused and slightly bored. Hajime gnawed on his bottom lip, words fighting in his mouth to escape as he thought over them. There was a pause. 

“I would have.” He said quietly, the realization that he was telling the truth was almost scary to hear.  _ I would have.  _ Hajime gripped the steering wheel. “I missed you Nagito. I mean, we all did, but… things weren’t the same without you around.” He hated the silence that followed. “It’s… It’s fine if you didn’t miss me, Nagito. I’m not saying all this to make you feel like you have to say something to me.”

 

“No!” Nagito said quickly. “Hajime, I missed you, it’s just that I… I need some time. Between us. With myself. My arm. School. Music.” The tension in Nagito was audible just from his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Um, can I ask you a favor, though?” As soon as the words left Hajime’s mouth, he felt a rush of memories and emotion sweep back at him. It had been one of Nagito’s first times staying the night at Hajime’s house that he’d asked the same favor that Hajime was about to propose. 

“Mm.” Nagito nodded. 

“Is it okay, if we, y’know, keep in touch? I understand you need time and I promise I won’t be needy or anything, I just don’t wanna lose you completely again.” Hajime’s thoughts came out in a jumble of words. 

“A-ah.” Nagito seemed surprised by the favor. “Of course, Hajime.” They reached Nagito’s apartment.  _ It’s nice. Cozy. It suits him well.  _ Hajime thought to himself. “Goodnight, Hajime. I’ll  _ contact _ you. I promise not be as elusive with myself this time around and-” As Nagito spoke, Hajime had gotten out from the car as well and walked over to hug him. “ _ Ah! _ ” Nagito let out a small noise of surprise before returning the hug. In the freezing air and despite Hajime wearing a tux (from the concert), the warmth of him enveloped Nagito. 

Growing up a sickly child, Nagito had often come down with colds. His mother, before her death, would put his blankets in the dryer when he was young, to keep him warm. The feeling of Hajime’s arms around him after so long was the closest he’d felt to that since his mother had died. He inhaled a sharp breath and buried his face in Hajime’s shoulder. Nagito had the sudden realization that Hajime would  _ always _ be warm. Even after all their time apart and the less-than-savory note they’d left on, speaking with Hajime was still easier than it was with anyone else. He was still fresh air in the summer and warm cider in the winter.  _ I know I need time for myself, to sort everything out, but is utterly comforting to know that there is someone in this world who I can always turn to.  _ He clutched Hajime tightly, trying to absorb everything about him through his skin and warmth. 

“Goodnight, Nagito. Call me if you need anything.” Hajime left a kiss on the top of Nagito’s head and pulled away. Nagito nodded quietly, scared if he spoke that his voice would break and betray his emotions. He waved a goodbye to Hajime and watched him drive away before starting the stairs up to his apartment. 

 

* * *

 

 

For the next few weeks, Nagito kept his promise of staying in touch. Despite being busy with his classes, he still spoke with Hajime every once and awhile. Hajime wanted more, but he knew better than to get too ambitious.  _ Y’know what? I’m grateful enough just having him around. _ He decided. 

Hajime was working on some new compositions at his favorite cafe in town. Gundham had been working on making some transcriptions for Sonia with him, but he’d left almost half an hour ago. While Hajime was growing undeniably tired, he was in such a good state of work that he just wanted to get it done. He was just perfecting the last few lines of a section when he realized he was out of coffee. He grabbed his cup and looked up, ready to get in line for a new one. Hajime stood in line for a few seconds, placed his order and waited by the pickup counter, eyeing his laptop carefully from where he stood.  _ It’ll be safe if I’m, like, ten feet away.  _ It had become much more precious to him now that it held all of his compositions. He glanced out the window. He frowned, noticing someone approaching the glass. “Hajime!” A voice called and he turned around to pick up his coffee. He looked back up as he walked towards his laptop and froze. 

Junko Enoshima was crossing the street directly in front of him. 

Hajime wasn’t sure what compelled him to throw his laptop in his backpack and make a beeline towards the door, but it was strong. He crossed the street he’d seen her cross and continued down it, pushing past people and doing his best to look over them to find Junko. He saw the end of a plaid skirt and followed it. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he finally caught up with Junko.  _ Hey! You murdered the guy I’m in love with’s parents! Not cool!  _ He figured it would go more along the lines of  _ bitch what the fuck are you doing around here? Why are you not in, I don’t know, prison?! _

He followed her down an alley (which looking back, was admittedly not the best idea to follow a serial killer into an empty alley, Hajime realized). He thought he’d cornered her when she turned around to face him from the other end of the alley. He could barely see her she was so far away. She flashed a smile and disappeared down a back street. He walked around some more, but couldn’t find Junko anywhere. He returned home in a bad mood. 

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Hajime’s phone began to ring as he was leaving practice. He saw Nagito’s name flash across the screen and he picked it up. “Hey, what’s up?” He felt a little bit of excitement spread through him when he heard Nagito’s voice. It had been a few days since the last time they’d spoken over the phone and he missed his voice.  _ Oh Jesus, that’s cheesy. Too cheesy. Gross.  _ Hajime frowned at himself in his brain. 

“Hello, Hajime. It’s Nagito.”

“Uh, yeah. Caller ID.”

“Oh. Yes.” Nagito sounded distracted. “Do you know how to fix computers by any chance?” His voice sounded hopeful.  _ I can’t say no to a voice like that  _

“I can try?” Hajime offered weakly. “I mean, I just left practice, so I’m free, if you want me to come over-”

“Ah, no, that’s too much to ask of you!” Nagito didn’t sound like he truly meant his words. Hajime laughed. 

“It’s fine. I’ll be there in an hour.” He hung up and got in his car.  _ It’s a hassle Nagito lives farther away now, but if it keeps him away from whatever the hell Junko is doing around here then good riddance.  _ Hajime thought idly as he started driving towards Nagito’s new apartment. When he arrived, he had to text Nagito to know which apartment suite to go to. He knocked on the door and was greeted promptly by a disheveled Nagito. His hair was tied back and he was wearing a much too-large sweatshirt with the name of his university printed on it. Something about the ensemble made him look so much like a normal student that Hajime had to do a double take. It was like seeing another side of Nagito. 

“Come in, Hajime.” He opened the door and Hajime looked around. It was more cluttered than his old house had been, but perfectly organized. There were potted plants on every surface that wasn’t covered in an obscene amount of books.  _ I didn’t even know a person could own this many books, jeez.  _ Hajime thought to himself.  _ Did he rob a library? _ “I’m sorry for the hassle and inconvenience, but I can’t understand what’s wrong with my computer and I need these graphs printed and edited by tomorrow and-” He was speaking quickly, voice breathy. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine. I’m not exactly an IT guy either, but I’ll take a look.”Hajime muttered. Nagito waited for Hajime ot sit down on the couch before he took the spot next to him. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I’m not entirely sure. It keeps freezing and then I finally got it to turn off but it won’t turn back on again. I didn’t save the graphs to Drive or anything, so…” Nagito’s shoulders slumped. Hajime went to pick up the laptop and set it on his lap. 

“ _ Jeez _ .” He pulled his hand away. “Uh, this is really hot, Nagito. Was it like this, before?”

“Erm, a little.” Nagito nodded. 

“Er, okay.” Hajime pressed the power button.  _ As long as I can get it to turn on, I’ll at least be able to do something. I may not know much about hardware, but I do know lots of internet tricks, so it’ll be a breeze and- _ “Oh.” He mumbled. He pressed the power button again. There was a whirring noise but nothing on the screen. “That’s not good.”

Nagito’s eyes lit up. “Chihiro!” He scrambled for his phone.

“What?”

“My friend Chihiro is a comp sci major!” He started scrolling through his contacts. 

“You didn’t call them first?” Hajime raised an eyebrow. Nagito froze and looked up, color spreading across his cheeks. 

“Well, since I’m not always the most talented at handling my emotions, I started to get anxious and…” Nagito looked away. “I thought of you first. I’m sorry for making you drive all this way for no reason.”

“It’s really okay! All good!” Hajime stammered, face heating up, too.  _ Nagito thinks of me first when he panics?  _ Something about that little tidbit of information resonated in a very happy place of Hajime’s heart. Nagito called Chihiro, who walked him through the steps of his computer issue until it was solved in a few minutes. 

“I ruined the computer fan.” Nagito frowned solemnly when he hung up. “But now it’s working again!” He sounded happy as he pulled the laptop closer and opened a set of graphs on it. 

“What’re those?” Hajime leaned closer to peer over Nagito’s shoulder. “I never did much science or math or whatever in college. I tested out in high school to avoid it.” He watched Nagito flip through complicated sets of data. 

“Ah, well. I enjoy statistics. Maybe from my years at the casino.” Nagito laughed at himself and stopped on a specific graph with a column of text next to it. “I’m very happy, Hajime.” He relaxed the tensed muscles in his back and shoulders and because of how closely they were sitting, Hajime could feel it. It served as a sudden reminder that they were sitting  _ way _ closer than Hajime had thought and he did his best to keep his cool. “Everything I learn is so interesting. It’s like… It’s just how music was. It’s different, of course. More reading. Less travelling. That’s not ideal, but it works well for me. I really enjoy the work that I’m doing.” He was staring at the screen with an excited look. 

“Tell me about it.” Hajime gestured at the information on Nagito screen. He hesitated for a moment, trying to gauge if Hajime was being serious or just being polite. He launched into a description of a project he was working on with Professor Kirigiri and the research he was doing for it (that involved far too many graphs for Hajime to keep up). Hajime was listening enough to nod along and ask Nagito questions, but his eyes were trained on his face, rather than the screen. Seeing the lights in Nagito’s eyes and the way his lips quirked up because he could barely contain his smile as he talked was a magical experience for Hajime. When Nagito was done talking, almost an hour later, he set off on a train of apologies for ranting, but Hajime just brushed them off.  _ I’d listen to ranting forever to see him that excited all the time.  _ Hajime shook off another apology, laughing a little.  _ Maybe him choosing psychology over music, even if it’s harder for me, was the best thing in the end.  _ He glanced down at Nagito’s slender hands, typing a mile a minute as he searched for some specific file he’d saved to show Hajime. “You’re typing.” His words came out like a gasp. Nagito glanced back up and then turned back towards his hands. He smiled. 

“Mhmm. My mobility is limited, which Kokichi told me. But… I can move my hand, again. And it only hurt a little when I type, especially now that I’ve gotten used to the feeling of the pins and needles.” He flexed his bad hand and while it certainly didn’t move as much as a regular hand would, and it shook considerably, it still flexed. Hajime laid one of his hands over it, brushing across the sensitive skin and watching Nagito shiver, but not recoil. There was a comfortable silence between them as Hajime traced the old and new scars across his hand and forearm gently. A few were still slightly scabbed, but for the most part, they were just indented lines that snaked around his limb in a way that Hajime wanted to call beautiful. He didn’t. He couldn’t after seeing what they had done to Nagito and the things they'd brought him to doing and he knew that it wasn’t the scars that were beautiful. They could’ve been anything on Nagito’s arm and he would have found them spectacular. It was  _ him _ . 

They both looked up at each other. “The song I played at the last concert, you remember it, right?” Hajime asked suddenly.  _ I’m probably gonna ruin this whole situation.  _

“Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto?” Nagito frowned. “It’s very beautiful, but I’ve never played it before, since it doesn’t have a piano-”

“It does!” Hajime cut in. “That’s… That’s the whole reason I put it into the running in the first place. I do research on every piece I play, right? Well, before this was composed, Tchaikovsky was working primarily on violin and piano duets for a bit. And it was a violin-piano composition that inspired the concerto. I know it’s super lame and whatever, but it made me think of you. Of us, I guess. I dunno what I’m saying.” Hajime’s voice got quieter. Nagito’s eyes sparkled again. 

“A-ah. I didn’t know that.” He’d assumed it had just been one of the piano-less pieces Shuichi would be willing to let the orchestra perform. It was strangely anxiety-inducing every time Nagito realized that they’re relationship wasn’t as one sided as he’d believed it to have been. It was like his world was spinning on its axis. He opened his mouth to try and vocalize what he was thinking to Hajime, but no words came out. He leaned forward, hand moving up to hold the hand Hajime had been ghosting over his scars. Hajime’s eyes were only centimeters from his.  _ His eyes are the same color as tea _ . Nagito thought to himself. 

Normally, every thought and action went through a series of pulleys and levers, until Nagito could feel confident in them being sensical, productive actions. They usually weren’t, anyway. But being around Hajime broke down that machine and let Nagito, the true Nagito, shine through. He reached his hand out, resting it on the side of Hajime’s neck and closed his eyes. 

It had been months since the last time they’d kissed. Nagito’s body felt the need to make up for all those months right then and there, and he would have, had Hajime not pulled away. “Wait,” He sighed. “I said I’d give you time. This is gonna be a spur of the moment thing that’ll hurt both of us.” There was a wince in his voice, like the words were painful. 

“This is hard for you?” Nagito sounded genuinely confused, which deepened the frown on Hajime’s face. 

“Of course it is. I love you. So even though I want us to be together again, I don’t want to…  _ hurt _ you.”

“You want us to be together? After everything?” The surprise in Nagito’s voice struck a sad chord in Hajime’s heart. “I’m no longer a musician.”

“I didn’t only care about you for music. I wouldn’t have taken care of you for that long if I did. Think about it.” Hajime frowned, gripping his hands harder. Nagito looked away. 

“I’m very busy. I don’t have much time outside of school.”

“I understand.” Hajime nodded. 

“I live almost an hour away, now.”

“It’s not nearly as bad of a drive as you think.”

“I can’t even drive.”

“I have a car.” Hajime felt like he was in a cross examination.  _ Well, so be it. If I have to convince him of his worth, I will. Even if it takes the rest of my life.  _ Nagito hesitated, thinking too long about what his next detractor would be. 

“... You’d really want to be with me?” Nagito asked, voice quiet and eyes wide. 

“Of course.” Hajime nodded, doing his best to maintain the eye contact. He felt like in Nagito’s weird mind, it might count as some test to honesty. 

“Okay.” Nagito’s mouth set in a small line. Hajime raised an eyebrow.  _ What? _ “Hajime, would you like to give our relationship another try?”

Hajime felt his world implode around him in the best way. He remembered the first time Nagito had come onto him, that he’d seen Nagito’s head surrounded by the background light and hoped he’d never forget it. It was so much stronger this time, after everything they’d been through.  _ I won’t let anything get in the way of us this time.  _

 

* * *

 

 

It proved to be difficult balancing their schedules, as Nagito had feared, but they were both willing to work over it. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’d meet at a halfway point for lunch or coffee. On weekends, Nagito would take the bus to Hajime’s apartment, or Hajime would drive to his. Nagito loved listening to Hajime fuss over his compositions, replaying the same pieces for hours.  _ It’s probably annoying.  _ Hajime thought to himself, playing measure thirty six for the fifth time in ten minutes.  _ It’s definitely annoying.  _ But he glanced up at Nagito, who was perched behind him on the couch, a textbook open in his lap. Hajime was sitting on the floor in front of him, his laptop open on the coffee table. Nagito’s face was amused. 

“Are you having difficulties, Hajime?” He asked, a slight tinge of a mocking tone in his voice. 

“No!” Hajime negated. He played the measure again. “Ok. Maybe.” He sighed and leaned back, feeling Nagito’s legs behind his head and resting there. Hajime closed his eyes. “I’ve been working on this dumb cello bit for three days now and Shuichi wants the first half of the piece by next Friday.” Hajime opened his eyes again to find Nagito leaning over him

“It’s the last chord that’s giving you troubles, right?” Nagito eyed the sheet music. Hajime nodded. “Try switching out the D for a D over G. Or a D over F sharp.”

Hajime switched the chord and replayed the measure. “You’re a genius.”

“Hardly.” 

“You’re definitely, without a doubt, a genius.” Hajime said in a firmer tone. Nagito laughed a little. 

“I know chords well. I spent years playing them.” He was flipping his pencil around in his good hand. “At least that knowledge is worth something if I can help you. Otherwise it would be a waste of neuromatter.” 

“It wouldn’t be a waste. You can still do a lot of cool things with what you know. Even if you can’t play, I mean.” Hajime offered, trying his best to sound hopeful for Nagito. A thin smile creeped up Nagito’s lips. 

“I found something this morning, Hajime. On my computer.”

“Erm. What.” Hajime frowned. Nagito’s eyes darted to him and then away. 

“I found the last recording of me ever playing before the accident. I was recording a practice for a piece I was considering as a solo for our next competition. It’s so strange, Hajime.” His eyes were no longer looking around, but instead had clouded, exposing the storm behind them. “It’s so strange to hear it because I can  _ feel _ every note that I play. But I  _ can’t. _ Do you understand what I’m saying?” Nagito looked to Hajime, again. 

“Hearing you play makes you feel like you’re playing again?” Hajime did his best attempt at deciphering Nagito, but his expression lit up. 

“Exactly! It’s terrible. I detest it because I love it and it makes me miss it more.” Nagito looked down with a scornful gaze at his bad arm. “I spill my tea every morning because it shakes when it has to carry too much weight. And every time I forget and push too hard on a door or try to grip something too harshly, I can feel it through my whole arm. It’s not that I’m ungrateful, although perhaps I am with how I act, I just… That accident stole more from me than an arm or my car.” Nagito flexed the fingers on his bad hand as best as he could. “I can only imagine what happened to the other driver.”

_ Nagito never talks about the other car.  _ Hajime sat up straighter and pushed himself onto the couch next to Nagito. He set Nagito’s textbook on the table next to his computer and pulled Nagito’s legs onto his lap. “What happened to them?”

“I’m not sure. They were injured worse than I was, but when I asked at the hospital a few weeks later, they informed me that the other driver did not have an ID with them in the car and had not yet awoken or been ID’d.”

“They… they were in a coma?” Hajime tried to muffle the shock in his voice. 

“Dreadful, isn’t it? My luck affected them even worse than it affected me.” He let his head fall back on a pillow and glared at the ceiling. “But I suppose, the accident wasn’t my fault. From what I overheard of the doctors, they were texting. So maybe this time it wasn’t  _ my  _ luck.” Nagito let out a short sigh.  _ Oh my God.  _ Hajime’s brain yelled.  _ He just said something wasn’t his fault. And that his luck didn’t ruin his life. Nagito’s… maturing? Is that even possible? Holy shit.  _ Hajime wrapped an arm around his legs and let the room stay silent. He’d come to realize that the silence between them was a good one. 

 

* * *

 

 

A month later, spring was just starting to bloom around them. Nagito’s new semester had started and he was as busy as ever. Nevertheless, they found a weekend to spend together back at Nagito’s hometown, where flowers were starting to grow on every corner. “Hey, Nagito.” Hajime got his attention as he started to park the car. 

“Mhmm?” Nagito looked at him, half curious and half just tired from the drive. 

“Do you wanna try driving again?” Hajime offered, raising an eyebrow and starting to unbuckle himself from his seat. Nagito was suddenly very much awake. 

“Er, I’m not sure that this is a good idea, Hajime. What if I crash the car? I haven’t driven since the accident.” Nagito sounded unsure and he didn’t budge from where he sat. 

“Don’t you wanna start again, though? It’s gotta be a pain taking the bus everywhere.” Hajime pointed out. Nagito thought of how often the bus was late and how he had to wake up particularly earlier to work around the bus schedule and how annoying-

“Alright.” Nagito’s face was determined as he swapped seats with Hajime. He buckled his seatbelt and reached for the rearview mirror. 

“Okay, come on, you’re like, an inch taller than me. You don’t need to adjust everything.” Hajime grumbled. Nagito snorted. He adjusted the seat, making a point of how much he had to do so. Hajime scoffed and laughed. “Just take it, really slowly, okay?” Hajime didn’t think that would be much of an issue, considering how he’d seen Nagito drive  before the incident. Nagito nodded. He checked the mirror and shifted into reverse to leave the driveway. He slowly put his foot on the gas and- “ _ Holy shit, slow down! _ ” Hajime screeched, grabbing at the armrest as they backed out of the driveway at what felt like the speed of light. 

“A-ah. Sorry, Hajime.” Nagito said apologetically and started to pull into the space to turn the car around. He did so jerkily, but still well enough that they didn’t crash into any of the trees around them.

“Er, that was…  _ better _ .” Hajime did his best to motivate. 

“Hajime, I’ve been a dreadful driver my whole life. You don’t need to protect my ego.” Nagito laughed lightly and stopped at the end of his driveway. “My driving isn’t going to improve, I’m just usually not brave enough to try again after what happened.”

“Hey, listen to me.” Hajime locked eyes with Nagito. “You said they think the other driver was texting, right? It wasn’t your fault. At all. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, it was just-”  _ bad luck.  _ The words almost left Hajime’s mouth before his brain reeled them back in.  _ I can’t say that to him.  _ “A dumb situation. If you wanna drive, then you’ll be fine at it.” Hajime did his best to sound firm and confident in what he was saying. Nagito smiled. 

“Ah, thank you, Hajime.” He turned back to the road and took his foot off the brake and turned on his blinker. He pulled out into the road and to Hajime’s surprise, didn’t go ten miles an hour. He went at the actual speed limit until they approached a stop sign. 

“Woah, you’re actually better than you were before, I think. Maybe a little time away from driving was good for you?” Hajime suggested.  _ That sounds rude, doesn’t it? Y’know, I always think Nagito doesn’t have a filter but sometimes I think maybe I’m the one who needs to learn to think before they say stupid shit.  _ Nagito let out a short giggle, pulling his wrist to his mouth for a moment before continuing down the road. 

“I used to be afraid when I drove. Of hitting someone else. Crashing the car. Breaking the law. But I think my mind believes that if I survived it once, I could do it again. I’m not so scared, anymore.” Nagito nodded, watching the road. “That is true for many things, actually.” He mumbled as an afterthought, but Hajime heard it loud and clear. He smiled, sitting back in his seat.  _ Seeing Nagito so comfortable is really- _

“ _ Stop! _ ” Hajime yelled, bracing for impact as someone ran into the street. Nagito stopped the car well in time and looked over to Hajime. 

“Are you alright?”

“Are they?” Hajime stammered and opened his car door.  _ Okay maybe Nagito’s right about having bad luck with driving.  _ He was starting to think. He walked around to the front of the car, vaguely aware that Nagito was doing the same on his side. The woman who’d walked in front of the car was getting up from the ground, rubbing a spot on her temples. “Are you okay?” He asked as gently as he could. She looked up and Hajime froze. “Junk-”

“Mukuro.”Nagito’s voice was cold. She turned around to see him and her mouth set in a tight frown. She looked back at Hajime. 

“I’m fine, thank you. I should’ve been more careful.” She walked away, glancing over her shoulder at Nagito as she left. Hajime felt his limbs finally unfreeze and he took a step closer to Nagito. 

“That was-”

“Her sister. Mukuro Ikusaba. We run into each other from time to time. It’s a terrible thing, really.” Nagito was staring at the street where she’d been just moments earlier. “She had nothing to do with her sister’s actions, but every time I look at her, I see  _ her _ . I see Junko.” He looked back up at Hajime, eyes dark. “I’ve always said that Junko has a habit of making you see her everywhere you go.” The words struck a cold fear into Hajime’s heart. He hesitated before opening his mouth. He’s purposely been avoiding the topic.  _ I don’t want to scare Nagito. Or make him think I’m crazy, I just… If any moment’s good, it’s now, so I might as well be honest with him. Nagito’s not a child, he should know the truth.  _

“I’ve been seeing her.” Hajime didn’t need to specify her name, the tone in his voice was enough. It was Nagito’s turn to freeze in place. 

“What?” He mouthed, good hand shaking slightly at his side. 

“A little while after you left, I saw her at the grocery store. I didn’t know it was her, she just sort of freaked me out. Then I saw that TV special where I called in, and… I realized it was her. And I saw her just recently when I was getting coffee. I tried to follow her, but I lost her and-”

“Don’t.” Nagito’s skin managed to pale itself even more. He was shaking, eyes wide. “Don’t follow her, Hajime. Do not talk to her or look at her. Don’t engage Junko in any way or she will  _ devour _ you. You don’t understand.” His breaths were short and uneven. Hajime took another step closer, wrapping an arm around Nagito. 

“Hey, it’s okay. She’s never hurt me. I don’t think she even knows I exist or that we’re together. I’m sure it’s just coincidence.”

“Or  _ luck _ .” Nagito’s voice was bitter. 

“Don’t say that.” 

“Hm.” Nagito’s eyes were half lidded as he turned to the sunset behind him. “I overheard that show, Hajime. She’s out. She’s  _ been _ out. I know Junko’s wrath better than anyone and I can assure you that she will finish what she started. If Junko can’t get money from me, she will kill me for foiling her plan or for humiliating her. For failing. I’m not exactly a private person. My name is plastered on competition sheets and videos and forums. It wouldn’t be difficult for her to find me. That’s what Junko does. She takes and she takes until you have nothing left. She’s done it to me once before and she knows that she can do it again.” Nagito’s face was calm and his voice neutral. Hajime could still feel tension in the air, however. He used the arm he had around Nagito to pull him into an embrace, a cold shock running through his bloodstream like he’d had ice poured down his back. 

“Do you think I would  _ let _ Junko fucking Enoshima do  _ anything _ to you?” He couldn’t control the fury in his voice and the way it wavered gave him away. “If that bitch tried to even lay a finger on you, I can promise that no doctor in the world -even Kokichi- would be able to fix her.” Hajime wasn’t used to feeling a rage inside of him. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. If anything, the raw emotion of it scared him slightly, but it wasn’t something he could control. He could feel the shakiness and vulnerability of Nagito in his arms. The innocence of his smile. The kindness in his heart. Junko’s words from the TV program flashed in his mind, “alone and vulnerable.” A white, oozing emotion comprised of everything Hajime could feel was seeping through every part of his brain, setting it on fire with the realization that  _ someone hurt Nagito as badly as they could and I will never be okay with that.  _ Hajime didn’t think there’d ever be a world or a universe, no matter how vast, where he could understand wanting to hurt Nagito that badly. He shuddered. “I promise you that Junko will never - _ never- _ hurt you, ever again.” He kissed the top of Nagito’s head. Nagito shuffled closer to him, like he was trying to crawl into Hajime’s warmth and Hajime felt the swirling emotions in him start to fall away, piece by piece, replaced by a strange tiredness and affection. 

 

* * *

 

The next night, Hajime was sitting at Nagito’s piano, trying to play through a particular section of one of his new compositions. He was a violinist by trade, but as a classically trained musician, he’d been forced to endure enough piano lessons to know the basic details of playing. He almost didn’t hear the phone ring from the kitchen over his notes. Hajime sighed and walked into the kitchen. The ringtone was piano music, so he knew almost instantly that it was Nagito’s phone. Moments earlier, Nagito had told Hajime he was going to take a shower, so Hajime wasn’t surprised when he got no answer from calling out Nagito’s name into the otherwise empty house. He picked up the phone, expecting to just tell whoever it was calling that Nagito was busy. “Hey-”

“H-hello? Mr. Komaeda?” A girl’s voice responded. 

“Er-” Hajime frowned. 

“It’s your nurse. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time. If so, I’m very sorry!”  _ His nurse?  _ Hajime was so distracted by realizing the voice belonged to the nurse from the night of the crash that he forgot to remind her that he was definitely not Nagito. She suddenly turned to a whisper. “I know… I-I know I’m not supposed to tell you this, but… we finally ID’d the, erm, victim.”  _ Victim!? What victim? What the hell is she talking about? What was her name again, uhhh “Pecan?” no. Mikan! Yeah!  _ Hajime took a deep breath and did his best to assume Nagito’s posture. 

“Excuse me for a moment, Mikan.” He threw some extra breath into his voice, hoping it sounded somewhat realistic.  _ I feel like Kokichi, pulling these lies. Jeez.  _ He ran upstairs, threw open the bedroom door and walked into the bathroom. Nagito didn’t seem surprised to see Hajime burst through the door while he showered, just gave him a confused look. 

“Hajime?”

Hajime put a finger to his lips. He made a gesture that he hoped conveyed  _ hey your nurse is calling you about victims or something please come here because I have no idea what the fuck is happening.  _ Surprisingly, Nagito seemed to partially understand and he stepped out from the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and taking the phone. “Hello?” His confusion was clear in his voice. 

“Erm, Mr. Komaeda?”

“Ah, Mikan. Hello.” He still sounded perplexed. He glanced over to Hajime, who tried to do a charade of what Mikan had said thus far for Nagito. “Forgive my dreadful memory, what were we talking about?” He gave up on Hajime’s acting skills. 

“No! I’m sure it was my fault, I probably didn’t explain it very well, I’m very sorry.” Mikan’s voice floundered. “We’ve… erm, we’ve ID’d the other driver from your crash.” She said in one breath. Nagito pulled the phone closer to his face with a concentrated look. 

“Who… Who was it?” He sounded almost scared to ask. 

“Er, I have to pull it up, I’m sorry! It’ll just be a second!” Mikan typed something audibly and then hummed to herself. “Hmm… Junko Enoshima.” The world stopped spinning. Nagito blinked dumbly at the phone. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Junko Enoshima. A-and, well… I hate to speak ill of the dead. But a doctor told me the rumor about her texting during the accident was true. It’s really bad.” Mikan squeaked. 

“N-no, Mikan, you don’t understand, I-I… Junko Enoshima? I, er…  _ know _ her.” Nagito turned to look at Hajime with wide eyes like he was asking for help. 

“If they were able to ID her, then where is she?” He mouthed, eyebrows furrowed. A surreal feeling was crawling through him. 

“U-um, where is she? May I ask?”

“A-ah. I wasn’t aware the two of you knew each other. I’m very sorry to inform you, b-but Junko passed away almost a week ago here at the hospital.” Mikan’s voice was nervous. Nagito’s eyes went wide. Wearing only his towel, Hajime could see every muscle in his body tense up. 

“W-what?” He could barely keep the phone to his face with how violently his hand was trembling. 

“S-someone recognized her from a TV show o-or something. We got in contact with her sister last night, and she confirmed the identity. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude if she was your friend! But… er, apparently she violated some sort of parole. That’s why she didn’t have an ID with her and we weren’t able to get information off the phone she had when she, erm, d-died. I’m sorry! We ID’d her as fast as we could, but-” Mikan’s voice went dead as Nagito dropped his phone and it hit the bathmat with a soft thud. Nagito’s whole body had begun to shake. He pulled his hands to his face, scratching at his hair and sinking to his knees. 

“Nagito!” Hajime got on his knees to be level with him. While adrenaline was coursing through him from the shock of what Mikan had just told them, Hajime’s only concern was Nagito. He reached out to touch the man in front of him, but a raspy laugh startled him out of doing so. The laugh grew and grew into something that almost scared Hajime. Nagito’s chest heaved with each laugh, the sound of it almost painful. 

“‘ _ She takes and she takes!’”  _ He quoted himself, voice hysterical. “I was right, Hajime! She didn’t stop with my parents.” He raised his bad arm between them and thrusted it towards Hajime. “ _ Look what she took from me! _ ” His voice was terrible and Hajime could feel his heartbeat pounding as he stared down at the scarred limb. He hesitantly reached out, mind blank outside of the pure shock, and took Nagito’s arm in his own, holding it gingerly and carefully. Tears were falling from Nagito’s eyes at a rapid pace, staining the rug beneath them where they fell. A sound like a choking animal made its way from the back of his throat. He reached for his bad hand, prying Hajime’s fingers away from it and scratching desperately at the scars. “ _ Stop! _ ” He shrieked when Hajime instinctively pulled his wrists apart from each other. Nagito’s breaths were deep, his shoulders sagging dramatically with each exhale. He finally looked Hajime in the eyes. “It’s hers. I don’t want it.” He muttered between breaths, his eyes alight with some sort of violent disgust. 

“No!” Hajime pinned Nagito to the floor beneath them, trying to contain his thrashing until he gave up, more from exertion than loss of will. He raised Nagito’s bad hand from his grip on his forearm. “ _ This _ ,” He said loudly. “This is not hers. It will  _ never _ be hers. This arm is yours. You are so much stronger than her, Nagito. Junko couldn’t take everything from you, no matter how badly she might have wanted it.” He shook Nagito slightly, careful to be gentle with his arm. “Look around. Right now.”

“ _ I can’t! _ ” Nagito shook his head desperately beneath him, squirming away from Hajime’s grip again. 

“Where is she?” Hajime asked. Nagito tried desperately to shake him off, hand itching towards his scars. “WHERE IS SHE?” Hajime repeated, louder than he meant to. He could feel his own chest heaving. “Junko is  _ dead.  _ She’s never, ever, ever coming back. She’s in a morgue somewhere or buried six feet under. Look where you are, Nagito. You are  _ alive _ and you are not alone. You have so much more than she ever did and now she can’t  _ ever _ hurt you again, do you get that? She might have taken music from you, but there is so, so much in  _ here,” _ Hajime pressed a hand to Nagito’s chest. He’d stopped floundering desperately. He could feel Nagito’s heart beating beneath his hand. “There so much in there that she can’t take. Nobody can take who you are, Nagito.” Tears were pricking in his eyes. They shuddered through his body and he collapsed onto Nagito, pulling him as close as he physically could. “You won against her, Nagito. She fucking died and you’re still as amazing as ever.” 

“I-I won?” The words sounded foreign and uncomfortable in Nagito’s mouth. He went still under Hajime for a second. “I won.” He repeated, this time not a question. His hands reached for Hajime, grabbing at him like he was checking he was really there. “ _ I won. _ ” His voice was triumphant. Confident. He pushed himself up and Hajime backed off slightly to let him. A lopsided, almost scared grin was spread across Nagito’s face. He wiped the tears from his eyes with a shaky hand. 

“The bitch is dead.” Hajime nodded firmly. Nagito laughed, this time the sound was clear.

“The bitch is dead.” He sniffled slightly as he echoed Hajime’s words.  _ I’ve never heard Nagito say the word “bitch” before.  _ Hajime thought to himself. “Hajime, I should, erm, probably put my clothes on.” Nagito said after a pause, glancing down at his towel. Hajime blinked. 

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” He peeled himself off of Nagito and stood up, offering him a hand. “Sorry.” He laughed a little. It felt so strange to be on such a weird high after the tornado of humanity they’d both just walked through seconds before. Nagito took his hand and stood up. Hajime ran a hand through the wild mess of white hair and leaned in for a kiss. 

 

* * *

 

 

Things weren’t perfect after Junko’s death.  _ They rarely are. _ Hajime decided. Another call to the hospital informed them that Junko had been released early, but only on a parole and she’d shed her ID and mandated therapy sessions to run away. Her third week missing, she texted her sister while driving and crashed into Nagito’s car. Junko had been in her coma since the accident, without either of them knowing. Hajime  _ knew _ he’d seen her. Nagito had simply reminded him of her habit of appearing in places she shouldn’t. “After my parents died, I saw her everywhere.” Nagito told him. “At school. At every competition. Every time I’d cross the street, I’d swear I’d see Junko driving the car in front of me. But she was never there. That’s just how she is.” 

On Nagito’s end, the next few months were a rocky, tumultuous time of never ending homework, exams, and research. Nearly every time they got together, Nagito would apologize for bringing his bookbag, stacked with different essays and textbooks he was working through. Hajime didn’t mind. Seeing Nagito concentrate over something was a treat on its own, he discovered. 

For Hajime, life was a piece of cake. He attended orchestra practices every day and night, especially encouraged to do so once they started playing his own compositions. Local music critics raved about his work, and soon bigger names began appearing at concerts. Hajime would always get a rush of excitement seeing them in the crowd, but his true happiness came when he’d meet with Nagito in their old practice room after every concert. “Y’know, I know that you’re busy. You don’t have to come to every concert, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings, I swear.” Hajime reminded him one night after a particularly long concert. Nagito smiled and shook his head. 

“They’re the highlight of my week, Hajime. I wouldn’t miss them for the world.”

Soon, winter was approaching again. It had just been the fall before that they’d stopped speaking with each other for so long. Nagito was preparing for his final exams in his school’s library. He had earbuds in as an attempt to drown out the distraction his friends were serving as for him. Chihiro tapped his shoulder. “Whatcha listening to?” 

Nagito took an earbud out, but Ibuki just snorted from across the table, her music theory book spread out in front of her. “Probably his boyfriend again.” She reached across the table and turned his phone on. Sure enough, one of Hajime’s recordings appeared on the screen. “Told ya.” She rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Ah yes, I’m sure your heavy metal is serving your studying so much better.” Nagito raised an eyebrow. He’d gotten better at understanding his friends’ jokes. He was proud of himself for it. Ibuki just laughed back and turned back to her book. He picked his phone up off the table and turned it back on. Their conversation had reminded him of something. He opened his messages and texted Hajime.  **Hey, world’s is coming up again pretty soon, right?**

**ya.** was Hajime’s eloquent response.  **why?** Came a few moments later.

**Just wondering -sry. See you. <3** Nagito typed quickly and sighed. He searched the competition on Google.  _ It’s in Paris this year.  _ He vaguely remembered a conversation he’d had with Hajime back when they were duo partners about going to France. He turned back to his books, a new decision set in his mind. That night, he drove back to Hajime’s apartment. He’d recently bought a new car to replace the one that had been destroyed in the accident. He’d forgotten how much freedom came with driving. He walked up the stairs and knocked on Hajime’s door. Hajime answered a few seconds later, wearing a suit. Nagito glanced at it and Hajime groaned. 

“I just got back from the  _ loongest _ dinner in history, I swear to God.” He opened the door for Nagito to come in. “I won a grant for the orchestra, y’know, for composing and stuff. But it meant I had to go tonight, and let me tell you,” He opened the fridge and pulled out takeout containers. “No amount of money in the world is worth that much boredom.” He started spooning the food onto plates and popped them in the microwave. Nagito grinned and sat down at the island, resting his arms on the counter and watching Hajime rummage through his drawers for clean forks until he gave up and started washing some from the sink. Domestic moments like these absorbed Nagito into their comfort and warmth.  _ I’m lucky _ . He thought. _ Lucky to be experiencing this.  _ For the first time he could remember, the word luck didn’t draw out a sour taste in his mouth. “So,” Hajime pulled a plate from the microwave, wincing at the tiny burn it left on his hand. “How was your day?”

“Less eventful.” Nagito laughed, taking a wet fork from Hajime and drying it with his napkin before he ate. “I just studied all day. Finals are next week.”

“Oh shit. Good luck. I mean, you definitely don’t need it. You’re super smart and all that, but, still, good luck.” Hajime took a seat next to Nagito. 

“Thank you. After finals, I have a fairly long break.” Nagito said pointedly. 

“That’ll be nice to relax.” Hajime nodded.  _ Unaware as ever.  _ Nagito almost laughed. 

“My break is over World’s. I’ll be free.”

“Damn, I wish I wasn’t out of town, then.” Hajime frowned over his fried rice. Nagito did his best to hold in the giggle that was threatening to slip out. Hajime stopped, fork halfway to his mouth. “Wait.” He set his fork down and looked at Nagito. “You mean, like… You’re  _ free.  _ Completely free?”

“Mhmm.” Nagito hummed happily. “And I’m sure my French professor would appreciate me practicing my French over the break.” He shrugged. Hajime’s eyes went wide with excitement. 

“Holy shit! You really don’t have to, I know you don’t have much free time, but… This, um, this seriously means a lot. Thank you, Nagito.” Hajime scratched the back of his neck, a blush spreading slowly across his cheeks. “Oh! Actually, wait, I got you something, here I’ll be right back-” Hajime jumped from his chair and walked towards his room. He was gone for a moment, so Nagito checked his phone. He had a few messages from Chihiro and Ibuki asking about when a specific building on campus closed, but he ignored them. There was a notice about an almost overdue library book. He sighed.  _ Hm.  _ A text from Chiaki. He opened it. 

**What’s up ?? (^  v ^)**

**I told Hajime I’m going to France with him. He seems fine with the idea.** Him and Chiaki had become friends over the past few months through their texting and he’d stressed to her multiple times over the idea of telling Hajime he was going to France only to be meant with hesitation on Hajime’s end. 

**Told you!!** There was a pause.  **How is he?**

Nagito hesitated before responding. There’d been an idea formulating in his brain for a few weeks but he wasn’t sure how either Chiaki nor Hajime would receive it. He took a breath and started typing.  **He’s good. Want to talk to him?** There was a very long pause. Chiaki started typing. She stopped. She started typing again. 

Hajime walked back into the room with a book in his hands. “I saw this at the bookstore the other day. You’ve probably already read it, but the guy working said it just came out so maybe you haven’t. It’s probably dumb, sorry.” He handed the book to Nagito. It was a book on psychology and music and their relationship. Nagito was familiar with the book, in fact he was on the waiting list for when it came to his school’s library. Because of how new it was, he hadn’t had a chance to get his hands on a copy. 

“Ah!” He took the book and flipped through some of the pages, certain words jumping out to him. “I was just reading about psychoacoustics, actually!”

“‘Psychoacoustics?’” Hajime raised an eyebrow. 

“How our brains react to music and sound. It’s so fascinating. Did you know that if you hear a song from the country you’re from or a song that’s purposely made to sound so, you remember it much better than if it’s a song that sounds foreign to you? And recently, they’ve started using cognitive musicology -which is a branch of music psychology- to see how our brains process music and rhythm to work on treatments for dyslexia and-” Nagito took a breath. “Oh. I’m rambling a bit, aren’t I?”

“That’s fine, it’s nice to hear you talk.” Hajime shook his head. He had no idea what Nagito was talking about most of the time when he went on his rants about what he was studying, but it was nice watching his eyes glimmer and his lips turn into a smile nonetheless. Nagito blinked and looked down at his phone. 

“Oh.” He mumbled and opened his phone, typing something quickly. “Hajime, there’s someone who’d like to speak to you.” He handed his phone, which was ringing to Hajime. Hajime frowned in confusion but took it, anyway. 

“Hajime?”

Hajime froze completely. He hadn’t heard Chiaki’s voice in so many years. He couldn’t even keep track of how many times he’d thought about her, his guilt overwhelming him and turning the sweet memories bitter. He’d been too scared to contact her. Too ashamed. Too afraid of what she’d say. “... Chiaki?” He stumbled over her name. Tears were already welling in his eyes. He tried to wipe them away quickly, but they continued coming. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” He finally choked out the words he’d wanted to tell her since the moment he’d cheated. Nagito sat back down in his chair and continued eating. He couldn’t hear what Chiaki was saying, but he thought maybe it was a good thing.  _ I’m friends with Chiaki. And I’m dating Hajime. But there is something between them that existed before me and they have the right to discuss it without me interfering.  _ He watched Hajime take a seat at the couch, hand shaking slightly as he held the phone. Nagito heard the surprise in Hajime’s voice when he realized Chiaki had wanted out of music, anyway. The relief when she said she’d forgiven him almost immediately after it had happened. Chiaki must have told some sort of joke because Hajime started laughing, an airy sound that filled Nagito with an emotion he didn’t know if he could describe with any word besides  _ hope _ . By the time Nagito went to bed, Hajime was still laughing on the phone with Chiaki, updating her on all of the orchestra members and telling her stories about competitions she’d missed. Nagito fell asleep smiling, half listening to them from Hajime’s bedroom. 

 

* * *

 

 

The next year was a blur of every good emotion Hajime could think of. He stayed in contact with Chiaki and started consulting her almost weekly on his compositions. World’s would have been amazing even if Hajime hadn’t placed at all. Being in Paris with Nagito was a dream come true and the small break was much appreciated on both of their ends. When he’d placed seventh, Hajime didn’t think he could physically smile harder. Then Nagito kissed him and he realized he definitely could. The day Nagito graduated from college, Hajime was pretty sure he’d been in a car crash, too, and died.  _ ‘Cause I’m fairly sure this is as close to Heaven as a person can get.  _ Nagito was all smiles and excitement, discussing his grad school plans with Hajime like they were trips to Disney World, not education. World’s rolled around again and Hajime placed third in solo violin and eighteenth in composition. His solo rendition of Devil’s Trill was the most watched version on Youtube, which Nagito’s friend Ibuki had told him, along with an invitation to her band. 

People started to recognize Hajime when he went to buy things for his violin and Shuichi had to invest in an expansion on their theatre after selling a string of sold out orchestra shows. Nagito was busy as ever with school, constantly pouring over books and participating in every research project he could find. Hajime was pretty sure he’d die of stress if he were in Nagito’s shoes, but Nagito seemed happier than ever. 

In fact, happiness had become such a constant in Hajime’s life, that he forgot about the way things had been before until Nagito brought it up one night over dinner. “Remember the concerto we played together?” He tilted his head to the side. 

“Of course.” Hajime took a bite of food. He thought back to their first meeting. “I was so moody back then, oh my God. I can’t believe you dealt with me.” He sighed at himself. Nagito laughed a little. “I was so pissed at the world and  _ ugh _ . At least now I’m slightly less of a pissy artist. Or, I like to think that, at least.” He frowned. Nagito grinned. 

“You made me so nervous. It was like playing piano with a celebrity or something. Then again, I suppose you  _ are _ a celebrity, now.” He giggled slightly at the look Hajime gave him. 

“Yeah, yeah. When you’re a world famous psychologist I’ll make jokes about it, too.” Hajime grinned with a small snort. Nagito’s eyes widened dramatically. 

“ _ Me?  _ Oh, I’m honored, Hajime.” He fell into a fit of laughter. Hajime just rolled his eyes.  _ I guess I didn’t realize how much the both of us have changed.  _

 

* * *

 

 

It took Hajime another year to propose. It took Nagito approximately 0.05 seconds to accept. Their wedding wasn’t large, mostly just Nagito’s friends from college and Hajime’s friends from orchestra. Souda and Gundham fought over the title of best man for days until Hajime reminded him that there could be two best men and suddenly Souda’s percussion equipment was suspiciously lacking in hamster bite marks. Chiaki flew from Switzerland to attend, which managed to choke up both Hajime and Nagito. Hajime’s parents were there as well, which had been a source of pride for him. It had taken his third place at World’s (which he was still defending) to convince them that his path in music had been the right choice. His father had invited Kokichi, who claimed Nagito invited him. And then Chiaki. And then he tried to claim that he’d had a dream predicting their wedding seven years ago but Hajime hadn’t been “famous” enough yet for him to tell anyone about it. 

“Well, it’s a relief we at least don’t have to plan the music.” Nagito snickered. Hajime had received at least ten different offers, but he’d ended up letting Shuichi choose for him. Nagito had insisted that Ibuki’s band play the reception, however. 

The wedding went well. Life, in general, was well. Hajime was sitting at a table, half listening to Nagito talk with Rantaro about something while he watched a tipsy Kokichi approach Shuichi on the dance floor. He grinned. Chiaki took a seat next to him. “Sonia and I were just talking about how amazingly dumb Souda can be.” She was playing a game on her phone. Hajime snorted. 

“Hey, he can play a mean timpani and that’s all I care about.” Hajime’s eyes found Souda talking to some of Nagito’s female friends, a dark blush creeping all the way down his neck. 

“You look tired.” Chiaki raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a good tired.”

“I know.” She responded, setting her phone down. “Y’know, if you would’ve told me you’d be the third best violinist in the world and happily married by the age we are now back when we first started playing,” Chiaki paused. She smiled. “Actually, I wouldn’t be super surprised.”

“Thanks, Chiaki. You’re great.” He could feel Ibuki’s music buzzing in his chest and hear Nagito’s breathy voice catch in excitement behind him as he continued his discussion with Rantaro. Hajime leaned back into him, feeling the warmth of him and sighing happily. Nagito wrapped an arm around Hajime. For the first time in his life, Hajime was pretty sure there was no music in the world that could convey just how happy he felt.

 

* * *

 

 

Hajime returned home from practice one Saturday to find Nagito crying at their kitchen table. He rushed over, fear immediately overtaking him.  _ Is he okay? Did he get bad news while I was gone? _ Every once and awhile, despite how much better he was doing, Nagito would hear La Campanella or think of his parents and he’d panic. Hajime had gotten very good at handling the panic, but it still hurt him. He didn’t want anything to worry Nagito like that. “What’s wrong?” He sat down next to him, gripping his hand. Nagito smiled, wiping a tear away. 

“Nothing.” He sniffled. He handed his phone to Hajime, his voice recording app was open. There was a recording from the night of the accident that had taken away Nagito’s arm. Hajime remembered Nagito mentioning it years before. He pressed the play button and almost immediately, he could feel a burning heat behind his own eyes.  _ It’s been so long.  _ He thought.  _ It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten how beautifully he could play.  _ He swallowed and did his best to blink back the tears in his eyes. “Rêverie by Debussy.” Nagito mumbled softly over the music. “ _ Une rêverie.  _ A daydream. That’s the title.” He took a soft breath and caught Hajime’s gaze. He laughed suddenly, taking Hajime by surprise. If any noise besides Nagito laughing had drowned out the melody playing from Nagito’s phone, Hajime would have been upset at missing something so beautiful. But he was fairly sure the only sound more beautiful than that music was Nagito laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked, thumb running over Nagito’s hand. 

“I’m living in my daydream, Hajime.” Nagito swallowed and pressed a hand to the side of Hajime’s face. “I never thought there’d be a time where I could live with just myself, no music working as a shield, and be this happy. Happier than I ever could have imagined for myself.” He kissed Hajime slowly. When Nagito pulled away, there was a certain tranquility to him that laid a golden hand over Hajime’s heart. “I’ve come to realize something, Hajime. There is a quote from Mozart. One that I’ve always heard. I used to think of these words as something trite. They grew into an unattainable treasure. But now I’ve realized their important.” Hajime kissed Nagito again, the piano music still swinging along gracefully in the air around them. He knew exactly which quote Nagito was going to bring up. He’d gotten better at understanding Nagito over the years. It was a phenomenal thing, really. “Music is not in the notes,” Nagito started.

“-But in the silence between.” Hajime finished for him, a grin creeping up his face. It had taken him years, but he finally understood the meaning. Music was never his life, nor had it been Nagito’s before his arm. Rather, it was a steady record of their lives, showcasing their ups and their downs and everything that ran in between. Nagito and Hajime’s lives had never been music, because music  _ is _ life.  _ And I think this is my best composition yet. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope the ending is okay! I have to find something else to do with my life now lmaoo.  
> If you ever wanna talk about my fics, you can hit me up on twitter at @clemalevenin or on tumblr @the/proof/is/in/the/sloth (without the dashes of course). I am so blown away by how many kind words and pieces of encouragement I have received and it means the world to me. If you ever left a comment on this fic (or you're one of those literal angels who messaged me or sent multiple comments omg), thank you so much. I can't tell you how amazing it is to receive such genuinely thoughtful messages. I can't think of a day in the last few months where my day hasn't been brightened by all of you <3.  
> Also, shoutout to my roommate who will never read this but had to deal with me staying up late every night working on it lmao. 
> 
> If you're interested, here is a link to a playlist of all the songs mentioned in the story (in order):  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch_videos?video_ids=eTPiZup0QmM,rA_h8S2JR4o,rNAgHjsIGNw,H1Dvg2MxQn8,mmCnQDUSO4I,symjHZVerKM,cVYH-7QGE-A,NdqBfMb3pX0,K-6KJgFdmuQ,CU9RgI9j7Do,d3IKMiv8AHw,CTE08SS8fNk,sT4LliIKxhY  
> (sorry it is such a long link lmao)
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, it really means a lot! I've had an amazing time working on this story and I'm working on the next chapter as we speak. The next chapter is going to take a slightly different turn, so I hope people will still like it. Anyway, thanks again and have a great day!


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